


The Siren Spell :: Nephthys Chronicles

by lostinadream (starblessed)



Category: Original Work
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-09
Updated: 2019-04-13
Packaged: 2019-04-20 19:42:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 46,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14268195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starblessed/pseuds/lostinadream





	1. A Summer Storm

The storm raged without mercy, tossing the fishing vessel carelessly amidst the thrashing ocean. Battered sails roared like thunder against the dark night sky; they twisted and writhed in a dance too treacherous to watch for more than a moment. The gale tossed the ship about as easily as a piece of paper in the wind. Only the very real risk that they would soon be overwhelmed kept the sailors on deck racing back and forth, fighting the elements for control of their ship. This was a battle of man against nature -- the sea versus their lives.

Wind roared in the young sailor’s ears. It drowned out all other sound around him -- even the shouted words of his crewmates, standing within arm’s reach of him, were stolen by the storm. He could not worry about them now. His focus needed to be on pulling back the sails before the storm could sink its claws into them, dooming the Queen Helena for good.

He tugged at the ropes with all his might, straining the muscles in his arms and back. The burn in his limbs was miniscule compared to the sting of raindrops pummeling his uncovered face. Each one fell like an individual whip’s lash, striking his vulnerable skin. Above, the sails slowly but steadily crept upwards, driven by the desperation of ten men determined to live.

“Pull! Harder!”

“Come on, boys!”

His muscles ached. His heart thrummed a frantic cacophony in his chest. How they wound up in a gale as fearsome as this, Daniel did not know; but it was without a doubt the worst he had seen. A lifetime of living along the coastline had borne him witness to a hundred brutal storms, but none of them could compare with this onslaught, which so deftly overcame them in the dead of night. Escaping unscathed now seemed like a fever dream. He could not see more that five feet in front of him, and doubted his crewmates were any better. Still they worked, valiantly struggling to tie down ropes and secure what little sail they had left.

Above them all stood Captain Xephias, his knuckles white around the wheel as he bellowed uselessly into the storm. The captain’s hat had long since abandoned him; red hair blazed around his head in a halo of fire, bright even in spite of the rain and wind. Xephias was determined to guide them out of it. Though Daniel felt so doubtful, for a second the utter surety in his captain’s eyes succeeded in igniting a spark of hope inside his chest. If he stared too long he was sure he would get lost in the sight of their revered captain facing the storm head-on. He forced himself to turn back towards the sail, into the storm.

Suddenly, above the rain, wind, and chaos of men slipping and falling along the deck, a yell rang out. Any hope Daniel might have had was extinguished in an instant. Up ahead, not far from the ship and yet still barely visible through the storm, a set of massive jagged rocks loomed. The ship gave another lurch; Daniel’s heart went with it.

The Queen Helena was being driven towards the rocks. With a flash of horror, Daniel realized they weren't going to be able to turn in time. There was no way for a fishing vessel of their size to maneuver away from imminent catastrophe; they would be run aground, and sink into the unforgiving waters of the Caladian Sea.

Bile rose in his throat. Daniel swallowed it back down as the panic of his crewmates raised to a fever pitch around him. Men scrambled to regain their bearings; the deck, slick with rainwater, was a chaotic chessboard of struggling pawns. Daniel’s muscles burned, and he choked on a mouthful of bitter sea salt as the ocean gave another desperate heave. The perilous rocks loomed closer and closer.

He saw, not heard, the captain call out another warning. Just as he did so, Daniel’s feet slid out from under him.

A scramble to regain his balance was met with nothing but empty air. Daniel was halfway off his feet before he was suddenly seized by the wrist. A strong grip yanked him forward, and he jolted upright only to be met with a pair of wide blue eyes he knew all too well.

“Hale!” he cried over the storm. Though he could not be sure his best friend heard him, the relief in the other boy’s expression was unmistakable. Hale’s face was gaunt and ashen against the assault of rain, yet he still cast a strong arm around Daniel’s shoulders to steady him. In doing so, he drew close enough to be able to shout directly in his ear.

“Is this is how you imagined we’d die?”

Daniel gave a labored, half-hysterical laugh. “Not even close.”

Only then did he realize the rope he’d been gripping abandoned him in his fall. A shock of pain electrified him; he raised his eyes only to see the sails steadily creeping downwards. A swell of relief crashed over him, stronger than the ocean waves.

“Turn, boys!” Captain Xephias bellowed, givin the steering wheel a hard tug. The ship listed sharply, beginning its change incourse — but they were almost upon the rocks. It wasn't enough. It wouldn't be enough…

Daniel gripped Hale with one hand, and the nearest sturdy rail with the other. He braced himself. He closed his eyes.

He did not see the ship turn. Rather, he heard Hale’s breathless gasp of laughter against his chest, and felt the tension drain from his best friend’s lean frame. Hale slumped against him, relief making his body heavy, and Daniel shifted his weight to brace him. Around them, cheers from the rest of the crew rang out.

“We've turned! We're saved!”

“Ancient Ones be praised!”

When Daniel opened his eyes once again, it was to the sight of jagged rocks slipping past the side of the ship, distant and harmless. Queen Helena, under Xephias’s skilled hand, managed to turn just in time. His fingers dug into Hale’s back; he breathed out what should have been a laugh, but morphed into a whimper halfway.

“Daniel,” Hale said over the rain, voice ringing with the cadence of familiar deadpan, “don't cry. It's already raining.”

“I'm not,” Daniel said, and gasped. The sting in his eyes could be blamed on the salt; the lump in his throat was the result of adrenaline, nothing more. He and Hale weren't the only ones standing paralyzed on deck. Much of the crew seemed to be frozen, marveling at their close call despite the storm that still roared around them. Daniel’s eyes fell upon Nicolas, one of youngest crew members. He looked ready to faint. The first mate, standing just below the captain’s nest, gripped the rain with a fixed, hard-set expression that belied his shellshock.

It was Xephias in the end who dragged them all back to their senses. “Come on, boys!” he hollered, voice booming over the gale. “Let’s guide her out of this torrent!”

Jarred from the spell which had overtaken them, the crew launched back into action once more. Daniel released Hale; neither could linger for more than a second before they were dragged back to work again.

With his hope renewed, the hard labor burned Daniel’s muscles in all of the best ways.

* * *

When dawn finally broke over the horizon, it was to the calm after the storm. The sea was placid. Above them stretched a canvas of orange and cerise, dripping gold like honey towards the water. The _Queen Helena_ moved smoothly through the waves. Finally, her crew found themselves able to collapse in relieved exhaustion.

Some made it back below decks to their cabins, to rest in peace after a night of no sleep at all. Others -- Daniel among them -- were yet obliged to stay above.

“A ship cannot function without its crew,” the first mate -- a slender, bespectacled man whose name reminded Daniel of a sour tasting fish -- had scolded them. “Even if it is a skeleton crew, you need to work.”

“I can't work any longer,” moaned a voice now, from where Daniel was all but collapsed against a crate they were supposed to be trying down. “My body is giving up on me…”

For Nicolas it had to be particularly straining, Daniel considered. Taking in the boy beside him (hunched over, not even trying to hide his exhaustion) it was all too easy to see how scrawny he was. The majority of the Queen Helena’s crew were fishermen and sailors by lifeblood; these were men raised along the shore, Coastal born and bred. Daniel and Hale were both among this group -- their bodies were strong, well-adjusted to physical labor, especially on the seas. They could push themselves to the limits if needed. They thrived on the sea.

Nicolas was not just the youngest aboard, and the physically weakest. He was also one of the few crewsmen who came from inland -- past the slew of Coastal villages which made up the exterior of the island of Nephthys. Nicolas came from the Rural areas closer to the farmlands and forests. He was unfamiliar with ocean work; but he, like so many others, was lured by the call of the sea. Daniel couldn't comprehend how Nicolas’ family could stand to let a boy no older than fifteen make the journey across the seas alone, but he could not judge them. From the amount the boy talked about them, it was clear he came from a tight-knit clan.

“We only have an hour more,” Daniel encouraged, despite the fact that his own body felt as heavy as lead weights. “Just a little more. Don't give up yet, Nicolas.”

The boy glanced up at him past a shaggy mess of dark hair, tire’s  eyes flashing with amusement. “Always so encouraging, Captain! At least the storm didn't shake you up too much.”

Daniel huffed a good-natured laugh, both at Nicolas’s nickname and the renewed light in his young face. He was relieved he didn't appear as shaken as he felt. The storm had been as traumatic for him as the inexperienced Nicolas, without a doubt. He had never endured a gale such as that. Deep down, he was amazed they had all made it out without a scratch.

(“The Queen Helena is a lucky ship,” his grandfather had said upon Daniel receiving his first assignment. “She is named after our first queen, and blessed by the Ancient Ones. She will carry you far.”

Daniel didn't know much about blessings from gods or the power of namesakes, but he would concede that the ship was lucky beyond compare.)

“It could have been far worse for us all. We were fortunate.”

“The Captain was so strong, wasn’t he? It was incredible!” Nicolas gushed, waving about his arms. The memory of the storm, and Captain Xephias’s heroics, seemed to have given him a new spark of energy. This was unsurprising -- you could never keep Nicolas down for long. “He looked like a god up there in the storm. He was terrifying! You saw it, didn't you, Daniel?”

“I did,” agreed Daniel. “We have a skilled captain.”

This was an understatement, and they both knew it. Captain Xephias was one of the most highly revered captains along the coast; his name was known everywhere, from the far side of the island to the very end. Wherever water met the shore, Xephias was a household name -- or so the story went. Daniel had heard tales of their enigmatic captain’s heroics before, but seeing it up close had been indescribable.

He huffed out a soft laugh as Nicolas continued to extol, and reached a hand into his pants pocket. He had only had a few moments to change into dry clothes after the storm passed; but as always, he had been careful not to leave his prized possession behind.

The notebook shared between he and Hale was leatherbound, stitched together with characteristic Coastal craftsmanship. The kiss of the region was clear in the weathered, strong pages, and the imprints of seashells pressed into the leather. There was no mistaking that this was a book belonging to two boys from the Coast, and its contents left very little to the imagination.

Sometimes Daniel worried that his writing was dull. He only wrote about what he knew best -- home. Stories he told his younger siblings were turned into pages-long anthologies; epic sagas of sea monsters and wicked witches, storms which swept away entire villages. They were all fictional, of course, but they proved enough to thrill even the oldest of his three younger siblings. Daniel thumbed through the pages of writing now, smiling slightly at the familiar ink-etched words. He could remember regaling his family with this one: The Wreck of the Titan.

“Whoa!” came an voice just over his left shoulder, and Daniel involuntarily lurched in surprise. The person over his shoulder chuckled.

“Whoops. Maybe you're jumpier than you look,” Nicolas teased, leaning over him. Daniel rolled his eyes, laying the book flat in his lap so his observer could view it if he wished.

“I didn’t mean to startle you. I was just…” He trailed off, chuckling to himself. “Curious.”

This was not the first time Nicolas had been caught reading Daniel’s work in the two weeks since their fishing vessel had taken off to sail around the coast. By now Daniel was quite used to the younger boy’s curiosity -- as well as his unashamed reaction when caught. If he was honest, he liked having someone interested in his work; and Nicolas, whose enthusiasm was always so genuine, was a eager reader.

“It’s alright. I don’t mind you reading what I write. Still, you should get back to work. The captain could come along any minute.”

“Ah -- alright!” Not wanting to chance the captain (or, more likely, the first mate)’s wrath, Nicolas quickly scampered back to his station and resumed the work he’d been doing before he’d gotten distracted. “But really, Daniel,” he continued, his brow furrowed as he focused on tying a crate down particularly tightly. “It was very good. You’ve got such talent -- I wish I were half as skilled a writer as you!”

Daniel looked down at his paper again, as slight “hmm,” escaping his throat as he read over his last sentence. “Thank you, Nic,” he replied, his lips twisting downwards slightly. He held up his pen, spinning it between his fingers. The cool metal did little to soothe the nagging dissatisfaction over his latest work. His brow furrowing, he leaned over his page, scratching out the last several words before scribbling a new sentence in its place. His frown only deepened at this. He repeated the process again, scribbling out a whole new paragraph before making a small noise of frustration and allowing his pen to drop down to his paper.

It was times like these he hated. Sometimes the sentences just flowed out of him, as easy as the ebb and swell of the tides. Other times -- like today -- he had to second-guess every other word, and even then his work never turned out the way he wanted it to. It was utter agony.

“Problem?”

A newer, lower voice behind him caught him by surprise. Once again he found himself startled, and this time his pen slid off of his book and began to roll across the desk. Long, quick fingers swooped down and snatched it up before it could get more than a few feet away.

“Oh,” Daniel murmured, looking up at the newcomer. “Hale. You startled me.”

“I noticed,” replied his crewmate and closest friend, handing the pen back and sitting down on the crate Daniel was leaning against. “You shouldn’t sit in such an obvious place, then, if you don’t want people coming up behind you.”

“You’re right.” Daniel rolled his eyes good naturedly. ”But you still sneak up on me. If you would quit doing that, I might have a hope of my heart lasting past thirty.”

Hale shrugged, pulling his own notebook from his pants pocket and flipping it open. The brown leather shone in the sunlight as he settled it on his lap. “You're too easily startled.”

“True again. Are you on your break now too?”

“Mmm.” This was all the answer he expected out of Hale, and all he was likely to get. Daniel sighed, leaning back against the crate. After a moment of deliberation, he shut his notebook in his lap. The story could be labored over later -- especially now that he had his friend’s presence to distract him.

Some people found his friend’s intensity to be offputting, but Daniel had known Haleion Marinos for so long that he was not thrown. The curious thing about knowing someone for most of your life is that you came to know their quirks better than your own, to understand them better than you understood yourself. Daniel often wondered if he was the only one who came close to understanding his best friend..

Born in the same Coastal village of Athlas, where most of the people were fishermen or at least had some tie to the fishing industry, Hale and Daniel had been friends before they knew how to speak. They’d quickly become thick as thieves, and in their youth often spent their days swimming together along the coast, clambering over rocks and pretending to be pirates. Ever since the day they’d first met, the two of them had been inseparable. They were quite the pair, too, and an unlikely one: solemn Hale, with his coal black hair and eyes that seemed to hold all the secrets of the ocean, and Daniel, shorter and brighter, with a ready smile and a hotter temper. Daniel had been called the “more social” of the two on occasion, though he knew this wasn’t true. Haleion was less talkative, hesitant to share his feelings. He got close to few people; bonding was something that never came easily to him, so he could count few friends. But Hale was fierce and passionate, with a mind as wide as the endless ocean, and an intelligence that Daniel couldn’t rival. Underneath his stolid exterior he was as gentle as the winds that blew in from the sea in the summer.

When those winds came, Hale would always stand at the top of the rocky cliff ace, letting the breeze caress his bare face, eyes closed and turned off towards the distance — dreaming of somewhere far away. This was one of those particular bits of knowledge that came with knowing someone so well that you could read them better than anyone else. He knew that Hale, as well, probably knew Daniel better than he himself did.

Now Daniel studied Hale. His friend had gently plucked the book from his grasp and leaned over his paper. Slender fingers grasping his piece of charcoal tightly, and his eyes were dark as they bore into his sketch. Haleion was just as critical of his art as Daniel was with his writing -- maybe even more-so.

“I think that one looks great,” commented Daniel, staring at the image his friend had coaled out onto the paper. The dark shades skin and wavy curls to the hair identified the subject of the piece as none other than Nicolas. “It looks really realistic.”

Hale shook his head. “It’s bad,” he muttered, frowning deeply.

There was no use in arguing with him; when it came down to it, Daniel knew that the only opinion that mattered to Haleion was his own. Instead he shrugged, turning his own book over in his hands and pushing his messy bangs out of his eyes. “I feel the same way about my story. I work and I work at it, I tweak it every way I can and still I can’t get it quite…”

“Perfect,” finished Hale. Daniel hummed, shaking his head.

“Exactly. It’s enough to drive you crazy.”

“You, maybe.” Hale shrugged his shoulders, smudging out a mark of charcoal and quickly redrawing over that, seeming to approve of this line a bit more. “I’m going to keep working at it until I have it just how I want it.”

That was the attitude Hale had always had — the thing Daniel respected most about his best friend. He had the utmost confidence in his own talent, and never settled for anything less than his own best. Daniel nodded, sighing slightly at the notebook in Hale’s lap. He wished he could have just as much confidence hat his writing was worth persevering in. Normally, when one piece wasn’t working for him, Daniel would throw it aside and move on to the next. That was his own personal struggle: finding something he really, really liked to write. Hale never gave up on any of his drawings -- not until they were perfect. That sort of stubbornness was a quality Daniel wished he could possess.

The two sat in silence for a few minutes after that, each poring over their own works. Daniel’s mind flickered, from his own lackluster story, back to Hale and his steady hand, to Nicolas and his knot-tying… even the great sea stretching out on all sides of the fishing vessel was enough to catch his eye. They were only a mile off from the coast of Nephthys, but even a mile seemed like an endless expanse out here. Had Daniel not been used to such an environment, it might have even unnerved him. He knew that some of the boys from other regions of Nephthys, not along the coast and who had not practically grown up with both feet in the ocean, were a bit awed. Nicolas had voiced his own feelings often enough, and Daniel could easily find it in him to agree -- the Caladian sea certainly was a wonder, and it could be imposing.

Not to him, however, and not to Hale. The sea had always been like a second home to them.

How funny it was, then, that the simple life of a Coastal fisherman was one Hale disdained above all others…

“If I can get this right, it'll be one more to sell when we get back home,” Hale muttered under his breath, every ounce of his attention focused on the drawing in front of him. Daniel couldn't help but cast a crooked glance his way. Hale had taken to selling his drawings lately, in order to earn his own income. Despite his parents being two of the wealthiest people in their village, Hale refused to take money from them. “Make my own living,” he'd said numerous times before, “and I can make my own way.”

Where he dreamed of going, Daniel had no clue. Perhaps he was much less complex than Haleion -- actually, he knew he was -- but Coastal life had always been amenable to him. He couldn't imagine himself living out his life anywhere else. Hale, it seemed, could imagine himself anywhere but their quiet little village.

In their hometown of Calcadia, everyone knew everyone. Their village was like a tapestry; every person was an individual strand, who played their role for the entire community. Everyone supported each other; neighbors were like family, and one person’s friend was immediately another’s. To Daniel, this comfortable continuity was everything he could want out of life.

To Hale, it was a prison. He was caged in by a village of people who could not truly understand him, and the older he got, the more his constraints strangled him.

The comfortable silence that fell between the two, in which Daniel allowed himself to be lost to his own musings, wasn’t broken until at least ten minutes later. This time, a voice from above caused them both to jump in surprise.

“Ahoy! You two!” Looking up, Daniel caught sight of the firey-headed Captain Xephias peering down at them from the bridge of the ship. “Are you going to sit there until you slide over the rail and wind up in the ocean, or are you planning on doing any work today?”

Quickly, Daniel sprung to his feet and gave a quick wave. “Yes, Captain!” he called up as Hale silently rose to stand next to him. “We’ll get right to that, sir!”

The captain smirked wryly at them both before his head disappeared over the side of the rail, leaving the two young men alone once more. Hale raised his eyebrow in a silent question. Daniel shrugged in reply.

“Well, Nicolas already finished up tying the crates down,” he remarked, studying the work that had finally been completed a few minutes ago. He bit his lip, glancing up at the sky. The billowing white sail that did very little to block out the piercing sun overhead. Daniel allowed himself to stare for a few seconds before turning back to his friend.

“Why don’t we ready the extra sail -- just in case?” he asked, repeating the phrase that he so often used. The saying “just in case” was one that Daniel lived and died by. After all, it never hurt to be cautious. His lips quirked up in a slight smile as he turned to face his friend. “The sky says there’s supposed to be another storm tonight. I’d hate to get stuck in the middle of it without a sail.”

Wordlessly, Hale gave another nod. Together, the two strong Coastal boys set to work hauling the heavy extra sail and tarp from the crate it was concealed in, back to work once more.


	2. Voices In The Darkness

As Daniel had predicted, the anticipated storm hit them that night -- and hit them it did. The violence of the gale from the night before was not present; neither was the merciless rain, nor the thunder that rumbled over the sea. However, the tossing and writhing of the waves more than made up for the storm’s leniency. The fishing vessel, while hardly the smallest on the seas that night and certainly not the smallest Daniel had ever seen, wasn’t big enough to put up much fight against the powerful, unforgiving waves, incensed by the wind and rain. The pitch of the ship was sickening. Back and forth it rocked, the storm easily tossing it as if it were no more than a ragdoll in the hands of a child.

A good deal of the crew were terrified. Daniel had to remind himself that most of his shipmates were no older than he was; they were teenagers, seventeen and eighteen years old, fresh out of school. Most of them were Coastal boys, but the crewmates from inland hadn’t grown up along the sea as others did. The Coastal boys had seen shipwrecks before (though never been in one themselves). They knew what to do, and how to have the best chances of survival in the worst case scenario. Still, even knowing that, Daniel found himself gripping the wood rail underneath his hands tightly, fighting not to pay attention to the din of water crashing on the decks overhead.

It was cramped below decks; dark, stuffy, and crowded with more people than possible to be comfortable around. The air was stale and suffocating. Crewmates’ heavy panting echoed in one's ears until it was the only noise that existed over the raging storm. Daniel didn’t like to be down here at all most of the time; usually he only came belowdecks to sleep. Even so, he knew it was worse for Hale, who despised being below decks more than anything else. Daniel was the only one who was aware of his friend’s habit of sneaking up to sleep above-deck every night. Hale found solitude preferable to his crewmates, and the crash of the ocean warmer than human comfort. Out of all of them now, Daniel noticed that Hale seemed to be the only one who didn’t look at all anxious about the storm. Instead, he just seemed uncomfortable and agitated in such a small space.

“So!”

Daniel turned to glance at Nicolas, sitting next to him against the wall; though it was hard to make out the younger boy’s expression, Daniel was sure he could see a nervous smile on his face. This seemed to be a habit of Nicolas’s -- smiling when he was nervous, and trying to act as if nothing was wrong. Normally it baffled the older boy, but now Daniel found himself thankful for the boy’s brightness.

“Why do you think the captain had us all go below deck?” inquired Nicolas, glancing around at the other crewmates gathered in the tiny under-deck. Most of them seemed to either be paying rapt attention the the boy’s attempt at conversation or to be trying very hard to block him -- and everything else -- out. “Wouldn't he want our help managing the storm?”

Daniel played with a strand of his own brown hair -- his bangs were damp with sweat, because aside from being cramped below the deck it was also stifling. He pushed them out of his eyes once again as he shrugged. “This storm isn't as bad as last night’s. He has his first mate with him. Maybe he didn’t need the whole crew?”

“The deck’s dangerous,” interjected Hale, his voice even quieter than usual — Daniel almost didn’t hear him. “You could be swept off at any minute, easily. He didn’t want to lose any of us.”

“So he sent all those who weren’t essential to keeping the ship afloat below deck,” finished Daniel. “Of course. It's all to keep us safe.” He sent his friend a small smile, but Hale either didn’t notice or didn’t reciprocate; the tense expression on his face didn’t change.

“K-keep the ship afloat?” Nicolas let out a nervous laugh. “That shouldn’t be too hard. I mean… this ship wouldn’t sink, right? It couldn’t. Of course not!”

“It could,” replied Hale, not looking at the other boy. “At any time.”

Nicolas let out a tiny laugh. His hand was suddenly locked around Daniel’s in a vice grip. Daniel winced -- not just at the sudden loss of blood circulation to his limb, but also at the boy’s obvious alarm. “But,” he interjected quickly -- Hale’s words could easily cause a panic among the crew, without even meaning to do so -- “we have a skilled and determined captain, who’s up there with the best of his crew. Xephias won’t let the ship go down.” He glances around at the men assembled around them, all in various states of anxiety. “We'll be fine. Don't worry.”

Nicolas’s grip relaxed a bit, and his smile returned -- a bit dimmer than before, but still there. “Wow, Danny. You should be up there too, you know? You're so calm... and you know a lot about ships!”

“But much less than Xephias and the first mate. They’re capable hands to be in. We’ll be fine.”

“Fine…” Hale echoed this word back under his breath, and scoffed to himself. His eyes bored intently into the wall adjacent to him. Daniel’s brow creased in concern for his friend; not for the first time, he wished he could know for sure exactly what was running through Hale’s head. Knowing someone so well only went so far when their thoughts could be as unpredictable as summer storms. Right now it seemed like his friend was miles away. 

“Hale, why don’t you try sketching something? The ship isn’t rocking that much now.”

Hale’s brow furrowed at the suggestion, but he nodded his head anyway. Daniel breathed a sigh of relief. Sketching never failed to calm Hale’s nerves. As his friend began to dig around in his pocket, a tug on Daniel’s sleeve brought his attention back to Nicolas.

“You know, Danny,” remarked the boy, “I saw a really weird thing right before I went below deck -- Captain Xephias was holding a pair of wax ear plugs earlier, and I saw the first mate putting his in just before they went to join him.” Slipping his hand into his pocket, Nicolas drew out a pair of tiny wax earplugs. “See? Just like this. I wonder what he could have needed these for…”

Daniel examined the plugs in his friend’s hand, and shrugged his shoulders. “Maybe they didn’t want to be distracted by the storm.” 

“Maybe… but these don’t even work that well! I -- hey.” Abruptly, Nicolas cut off. “Where’s Hale going?”

"Huh?" Daniel's head shot up, swiveling towards the place the other boy had been sitting just moments before; it was empty. Instead, his friend was now quickly stomping up the steps, seconds away from resurfacing onto the deck.

Quick as a flash, Daniel sprang to his feet and darted up after him, seizing Hale before he could throw himself into peril. He used all his weight to attempt to urge him back down the steps. With much more force than Daniel had been anticipating, Hale threw him off.

"Let me go!" he snarled, his face clouded with anger as well as... fear? Daniel's grip didn't loosen on his friend's arm; if anything, it tightened.

“What's wrong?Just minutes ago, you were telling us how easy it would be to be swept overboard up there! What are you doing?”

“The book!” Hale rounded on his best friend, his eyes filled with an agitated sort of desperation. Daniel drew back in sheer shock. “I left it today! It could still be up there! I need to get it back!”

Daniel pulled in a sharp breath. Their notebook. Hale’s sketchbook; his most treasured possession, his extra appendage, the one thing he was never far away from. The thing he poured his heart and soul into, all the emotions he kept bottled up during the day. The one thing he dreamed would take him places far away from a life of fishing vessels and tiny coastal villages where nothing ever changed… and now he feared he had seen the last of it.

Hale jerked away, lunging up to the deck. Daniel was in too much shock to stop him. His friend’s eyes were blazing with pure fear -- all his dreams might have just been lost, and he was frantic to get them back.

But at the cost of his own life?

“Hale! Wait!” There wasn’t time to think; Daniel couldn’t even stop to breathe. He needed to get to Hale, and he needed to make sure his friend was safe. Following Hale’s desperate path, he ignored the cries from his crewmates behind him as he pulled himself up and threw himself above the deck as well.

He wasn’t prepared for the sudden assault of rain, wind, and darkness that pummelled him as soon as he found his feet. Wind shrieked in his ears like a banshee, drowning out any and all other sounds. Rain stung his skin like needles. This, combined with the sudden ache in his head — a consequence of the screaming wind that absorbed all other sound — was nearly enough to send him back below the deck again. Then his eyes fell on Hale.

The other boy’s ebony hair clung to his face. His skin was too pale, almost translucent, in the near-nonexistent light. He scrambled around the deck on his hands and knees, ignoring the violent thrashing of the ship. All of his attention was fixed on one place: the crates that the two boys had tied down before. That’s where they had been pouring over the notebook just before the captain sent them all below deck. Daniel forgot to take the book with them; and now it was nowhere to be seen.

“Hale!” he shouted over the thundering storm, unable to hear even his own voice. “Come on! It’s useless!”

Hale looked over his shoulder; he mouthed something that could have been “no!”; Daniel was far from able to hear it. That was his only acknowledgement before he returned to his frantic scrambling around the crates. He clearly wasn’t finding what he was searching for. Mentally cursing his friend’s own death-grip stubbornness, Daniel threw himself after the other boy, nearly falling to his knees as the ship gave a violent lurch.

“Hale!” Daniel caught the other boy the shoulder and forcibly spun him around to look at him. A cold jolt of shock ran through him at the tear tracks streaming down his friend’s face. They could have been rain, to be sure, but Hale’s eyes shone bright, and his ordinarily impassive face was twisted in agony. Alarm hit Daniel like a punch to the stomach. He had never seen Hale so devastated before, not even when his parents announced they had booked him to work on a ship.

“It’s no use,” he said, pulling his friend close. Hale offered no resistance. “I’m sorry.”

He could still barely hear him, but against his shoulder he felt his best friend shake his head. His back was trembling as Daniel clutched him, using his own body to shield him from the worst of the storm. “My book...” Hale’s trembling voice at last reached his ears. “That book… was my life… I…”

“I know.” Still holding him, Daniel pulled them both to their feet. “It’ll be alright, Hale. It’ll be alright. Come on, it’s not safe here!”

Hale offered no resistance, much to Daniel’s relief. Together the two boys struggled back over to the entrance to the underdeck. Being topside was becoming much more perilous. The ship thrashed more and more violently amidst the waves, storm sweeping them up in its wake. The great sails overhead were barely holding out, and Daniel couldn’t help but notice that he could see no sign of Xephias or the first mate. Where had their commanders gone?

The ship gave a particularly violent jerk, and he was barely able to keep himself and Hale from being tossed straight overboard. Finally, finally, they managed to reach the opening. Heaving a trembling breath, Daniel pushed Hale away from him and tried to guide his disconsolate friend back below deck.

All of a sudden, Hale stopped.

“Hale.” Daniel gave him a stubborn push. “Go!”

His friend shook his head, focused slowly narrowing on something in the distance; his agonies from seconds earlier at once seemed forgotten. “Do you… hear that?”

Daniel could barely hear Hale himself. The wind drowned out all other sound; it was the only thing his ears could focus on. He was more than eager to get back down below decks, where it was safe. “No!” He gave his friend another sharp tug, one foot already on the topmost star. The wood creaked under his weight. “Come on!”

Hale pulled his arm away from him, shaking his head. A dazed look had suddenly overcome his face. He took a step forward, away from the safety of the lower decks. Daniel’s eyes widened in horror.

A tug on his pant leg alerted him to the fact that someone was down there trying to pull him back to refuge; but Daniel could neither hear them, nor focus on anything other than his friend’s unprecedented behavior. Hale drifted farther and farther from his friend and the stairs, back towards the peril of the decks. This was nothing like Hale; he would never be so reckless. Daniel wanted to scream, but no sound would leave his open mouth. What was he doing? Had Hale gone mad?

Watching him stumble forward, it seemed so; but the focused look in Hale’s eyes screamed of something else.

“Hale!” Once again, his cry failed to garner any reply. Hale still moved forward… walking straight towards the railing of the ship.

It struck Daniel like a flash of lightning. At once, all the air was sucked from his lungs. Surely his friend wouldn’t give up his life over something like the loss of his sketchbook?

“Hale!” 

Then Daniel was back on the deck again, flinging himself in the direction of his friend. He caught Hale around the middle just before he could reach the rail; muscular arms twined tightly around Hale’s leaner frame, constricting his movements. With an agonized cry, Hale began to rage against the restraints, howling like a madman. An elbow caught Daniel’s ribs; a fist swung perilously close to his jaw. Hale kicked and punched as if his life depended on it — and it did. Daniel could just make out the strangled words words interspersed with his shouts: “Stop! Stop! The singing! I have to get to the singing!”

“There is no singing!” Or at least none that Daniel could hear -- then again, he could barely hear anything at all.

Another set of hands joined him, and Daniel became aware that they we're no longer alone. Nicolas was now restraining Hale as well. Both young men struggled fiercely to keep another from doing something drastic. At once, the ship’s convulsions seemed to have increased, rocking the three of them from side to side so violently that they could barely stay on their feet. Daniel’s grip tightened around his friend’s shoulders, but Hale’s strength was nothing to scoff at; though Daniel was taller, Hale had brute force on his side, and Nicolas was small and wiry with little muscle to speak of. Hale scrabbled tooth and nail to be free. The same desperation from the ship’s staircase returned in full force, only now directed at Daniel. This time he looked truly desperate; as if he would die if he did not reach whatever seemed to be calling him.

Daniel had never been more terrified in his life.

Suddenly Hale lashed out, and a sharp blow to the face sent Daniel reeling back. An elbow to the stomach did similarly for Nicolas, who fell to the deck at Daniel’s feet. Before either of them could stop him, Hale did the unthinkable.

He lunged for the railing. 

There was a moment of suspended time, in which all that existed in the world was simply Hale and the sea stretching below him. The ocean stretched up towards him, foamy arms widening in an embrace. The storm enveloped him like a blanket. Gravity swooped around him, carrying him up and forward, no earthly being powerful enough to stop it.

Then, in a perfectly formed dive, Hale flung himself into the sea.

An agonized cry tore from Daniel’s throat. Without thinking, ignoring Nicolas’s shout from behind him, he flung himself towards the place Hale had disappeared. The Queen Helena was rocking so violently that it could barely remain upright. It twisted and whirled from side to side in a demented dance, as massive waves almost as tall as the ship itself rose in the distance. Daniel couldn’t think of that; he could not think of the men trapped belowdecks, oblivious and helpless. His only thought was of his best friend. Hale, drowning in the merciless sea.

There was no chance to think, not a moment to hesitate. Daniel was aware of every second, every pulse of his heart, every panicked thought that coursed through his brain. The wind screamed Hale’s name; the waves bellowed his death knell.

There, in the black abyss — a pale human figure.

Daniel did not hesitate before flinging himself over the railing after his best friend.

Water crashed over his head; an icy shock electrified his bones. The force of the waves hammering him felt like being run down by the ship itself. Only then did it hit him just what a mistake he had made -- one that was sure to be his last.

Alarm rose up within him as he fought the urge to take a breath; he forced his eyes open, but the salt stung them so badly that it couldn’t last. There was no way to fight the churning of the waves. It was impossible to surface; anytime he did, he was only forced under again, and as he thrashed against the current he swore he could feel something brushing up against his kicking legs. This was the moment panic really set in. Though he knew it was the worst thing he could do, as soon as his head broke the surface of the water Daniel opened his mouth to scream.

Water poured into his lungs. He gagged for an instant before finding himself under again -- and this time, he wasn’t coming back up. No matter how Daniel struggled, even as bright spots began to appear in his darkened vision, there was no emerging from the deep. The sea had its tendrils around his waist and was pulling him down. He was going to drown here, in the ocean he’d known all his life; and so was his best friend. 

His lungs shriveled. He fought desperately, clawing at nothing as he tried to find his way to the non-existent surface; but safety and the ship were far above him, miles away, and he would never see them again.

Suddenly, a burst of lightning in the sky above gave way to pictures -- images, memories, flashes of a life he’d once known.

Flash.

He was young, and he and Hale swam hand and hand through the system of half-drowned caves that always fascinated them so much as children. The light was dim, but Hale’s eyes glowed brightly. Within them swirled the endless, breathtaking ocean. As the two boys’ heads broke water, he surprised Daniel with a rare grin.

Daniel opened his eyes once more; he saw the ship’s mast plunge into the water next to him, moving in a distorted downward descent beneath the waves. If he reached out, he would be able to touch it.

Flash.

His brother was sick; his youngest brother Colin, with dark, dark eyes and a bubbly laugh. He rocked him in his arms and sang the song that their father used to sing to him before he sunk into the abyss with his own fishing vessel, never to know his youngest son. His brother gave a feverish sigh in Daniel’s arms.

Daniel couldn’t struggle anymore. He was sinking further and further down. There was no fight left.

Flash.

The shadow of a memory; the feeling of lips on his, softly, like the flutter of butterfly wings. His first girlfriend pulled away with wide eyes and a pink face. She broke into a tentative grin, and he couldn’t help but grin back.

He opened his eyes once more, his head turned up towards where he was sure air used to be, once -- and caught sight of something that almost shocked him. People swam above him, women, with the upper bodies of humans and the strong lower tails of fish. They cast sharp silhouettes in the water near the surface- farther and farther away from him. For a moment, he was sure one of them even looked down at him, glowing eyes revealing themselves like amother burst of lightning. 

He no longer had it in him to be startled or surprised. Daniel was tired.

Flash.

Hale jumped into the sea. Daniel jumped after him.

He was tired.

Faintly, Daniel could feel something around his waist. Was it the sea? No, arms -- the sea’s arms? That didn’t make sense… no, these were real arms, of a real person, and they pulled him down, down, down....

Daniel’s eyes closed, and he knew no more.


	3. A Stranger

He was not dead.

That was the first thing Daniel was conscious of; indeed, the fact that he was conscious of anything did wonders in proving his immediate theory. Still, though alive, he wasn't awake. Darkness clung to him, pouring into the deepest recesses of his mind, numbing his brain and making his body heavy as lead.

He slowly fought himself to wakefulness. Bit by bit at a time, his consciousness began to stir once more. The first thing he was able to feel was something damp and warm pressed up against his lips, almost like another mouth on his own. Then came the sound of metal skittering across stone. He could hear the waves crashing up against the shore. We’re he able to, he would have frowned in bemusement. Hadn't he been under the waves earlier? Drowning, if he recalled correctly.

He wasn't dead now. That much was apparent. Even with his eyes still closed, Daniel could make out some of his surroundings. Under his bare back, the floor was slick and cool as stone. His mind immediately flashed back to the brine-filled cavern playgrounds of his youth. Was that where he was, then? Washed up in some old sea cave? This time, Daniel really did frown; as his lips twitched downwards, he heard a sharp gasp, followed by a splash.

His eyes opened, but the light that immediately violated them was too much. He winced, squeezing them shut once more. A sharp gasp of air flooded his lungs, and he at once found himself regretting it. Daniel quickly flipped onto his side. Abused lungs and throat burned like dry fire as he coughed and sputtered to relieve himself of water that was not there. Convinced as his mind was that he was somehow alive, his body wasn’t as sure.

It took several minutes of desperate coughing and hacking before his senses -- as well as air -- began to return once more. He was alive, that much was clear. Sitting up with agonizing slowness, bleary eyes surveyed his location in bemusement.

It was a cave. All stone floors and walls, slick and wet, a dark cavern where barely any brightness seemed able to penetrate. The only light, in fact, came from the pool of gently churning aquamarine ocean water, framed by a ring of rocks, that hung along one side of the cave. It seemed to give light to much of the otherwise darkened cavern. This pool was, it appeared, the only way in and out of the cave; there were no other entrances in sight. To leave, one would have to travel under the waves for however long it took before you could surface out into open water. Daniel wondered how far down the cave went, and how long he would have to swim in order to escape.

That was when his eyes landed on her.

She hung off of one of the rocks bordering the edge of the pool. Jagged fingernails dug into the slick stone. Peering out from behind her refuge, she studied him with bright, alert green eyes that made Daniel’s head spin. She wasn't fair, but she was striking; round faced, with slightly pink cheeks framed by a mass of blonde curls that hung down her shoulders in a tangled mess, slickened back by the water. A tight ring of necklaces, strings of pearls and multicolored beads, adorned her neck to conceal the pale skin underneath. Her lips -- pink and delicate, fit for thin smiles and pointed frowns -- were pursed as she studied him. The vaguest look of disapproval lingering in her eyes somehow made him feel self-conscious. If the expression on her face were softer, she could almost be called beautiful.

The most startling thing about her by far had to be the sleek salmon fish tail stretching out into the water behind her in place of where her legs ought to have been. Arched and powerful, the tail began just at her waist and trailed for a solid meter behind her before ending in a willowy, delicate fan. More fins hung off her hips, billowing behind her like the fabric of a light dress. Just beneath her ribs, the serrated outline of gills were visible.

Daniel had heard the stories of Mer, of course. Growing up in a densely-knit town along the sea, where it seems like everyone knew everyone else’s story, they were inescapable. The existence of Mer swimming along the coasts of Nephthys was an accepted fact; they were recognized by the Crown as one of the official races of Nephthys. On few occasions, Mer had even been known to trade with men. However, most of the stories Daniel had heard spoke of the mysterious sea-people as reclusive, even hostile to other races. Only a rare few sailors got the pleasure of seeing a Mer up close. Yet here he was, face to face with a real life Mer, and paralyzed beneath her intense stare.

For a moment all he could do was gaze back at her. His throat still burned as if he'd swallowed sand, rendering him incapable of even trying to speak. Besides -- what could he even say to her? It occurred to him that she might not even be able to speak Jaolish, the language of the people of Nephthys. What language did Mer speak, anyways?

Hopefully something he could understand. Deciding to take his chances anyway, he pushed himself up to his hands and knees and nervously met the Mer's eyes. "H- hello."

The Mer jerked back, all but her hands vanishing behind the rock once more. For an instant Daniel wondered if she was going to dive back into the sea; but her grip remained firm on the rock. After a moment of trepidation, once she'd ascertained that Daniel wasn't in any condition to make a sudden move towards her, she peeked out and met his stare with solemn eyes.

She didn't speak; but neither did she give any indication that she couldn't understand him. Daniel took this as a good sign. "I... thank you. I'm assuming you rescued me, right? You saved me from drowning." A Mer saving a human; it sounded outlandish, especially considering some of the stories Daniel had heard. Unlikely… but not impossible.

Still, the Mer didn't reply. Her pale, near-translucent fingers twitched over the rock.

"Thank you for that. Were it not for you, I’d have been… dead."

She didn’t reply. Her solemn eyes bore into him like daggers.

Suddenly, out of the corner of his eye, his gaze locked upon something else. "Hey!" he exclaimed, his eyes widening at the small silver pocketknife lying open on the cave floor. "That's my kni--"

As soon as he said this, however, and his arm began to extend towards the knife, the Mer in front of him let out a shrill screech. Daniel was sent to the ground, hands pressing tightly over his ears. The siren wail could have lasted anywhere from seconds to hours. When it finally cut off, a stunned Daniel raised his eyes to see that the Mer had plunged back into the sea. Now, she was nowhere in sight.

"Wait!" he exclaimed, his eyes widening in alarm. He still didn't know how to get out of this cave, and if the Mer got him here then she had to know how to get him out. She might be the only one who knew how to get him out. "I'm sorry!" he called out desperately. "I wasn't going to hurt you!"

For one dreadful moment there was nothing but silence. Then, slowly, a head poked up from the water several yards away.

Daniel held up his empty hands as the Mer studied him suspiciously. Her sharp jade eyes bore underneath his skin. He couldn't help but shift uncomfortably. Swallowing, he shrunk back a bit as the Mer moved in closer, allowing her folded arms to rest on one of the rocks once more. Every muscle in her body was cooled. She remained ready to take off at any opportunity.

Daniel's eyes flickered back and forth between the knife and the Mer. His mind raced to try to figure out what he should do. That knife was expensive; his mother had purchased it for him just before he went out to sea. On the other hand, scaring the Mer off could be a death sentence for him.

"Is it... okay if I just... I'm going to reach for my knife now. Then I'm going to tuck it into my pocket. Is that alright?"

The Mer didn't reply, her intense stare boring into him. Ignoring the nagging voice in the back of his head sternly warning him not to do it, he reached his hand out to grasp the knife --

"Stop."

In a second Daniel froze, going still as a statue. That voice could only have come from one source.

He gaped at the Mer. "You can talk?"

The Mer's expression remained hard. "Do not touch the knife. Leave it there and step away from it."

She didn’t sound anything like Daniel expected. Instead of a lyrical vibrato, her voice was throaty, carrying a rasp to it that made it unpleasant to listen to. Still, it suited the expression on her face -- hard and blunt. Daniel hadn't thought the first Mer he ever met would be so bossy. Then again, he also hadn't expected her to be able to speak his language, so he supposed he was better off doing what she said. "Okay," he replied, hastily backing off of the knife. "See? I wasn't going to hurt you."

"Why do you have that?" At his bewildered look, the Mer inclined her head towards the blade. "That. The knife. Why do you have it?"

"It's... it's for cutting ropes. I'm a sailor."

"Sailor." The Mer echoed this statement, frown not fading from her face. However, she made no move to stop him as he tucked the knife in his pocket.

Daniel seized upon this as a good sign -- anything to diffuse the tension of this meeting. "My name's Daniel."

She looked up sharply. "What?"

"Daniel. Daniel Redihess. That's my name."

"Daniel..." The Mer frowned as she said this, testing a new word on her tongue. Evidentially his name tasted bitter, for her mouth puckered. Daniel tilted his head, too awed to feel offended.

"And..." he ventured tentatively. "Your name is..."

Her eyebrows furrowed; Daniel couldn't help but think that the creature in front of him looked skeptical. When she opened her mouth, a series of harsh hisses and slurs were the only sound emitted; though she looked pleased, Daniel could barely pick out a word past what sounded like one giant hiss. Was this the language of the Mer?

"E- Eeshme... Esme? Like Esmerelda?"

"What does that mean?" The Mer looked confused.

"It's a name. Esmerelda -- it sounds like your name. Can I call you that? I don’t think I can pronounce yours, I’m sorry."

The Mer's lips pursed again, in the way they seemed to do whenever she encountered something different.She sounded it out slowly, a drawn out Es... mer... eldah… that made the name sound as foreign to Daniel as it must to her. There was a slight gleam in her eyes when she looked at him again. ”That’s fine."

Daniel breathed a sigh of relief, turning his eyes down to his knees. Esmerelda was a familiar name, common in his village. The Mer’s green eyes made the moniker fitting.

Esmerelda seemed to lose interest in him quickly once she realized he wasn’t in any shape to hurt her. Pulling herself further onto the rock, she eyed her slender hand with something akin to disdain before beginning to drag it through her hair, smoothing out her tangled mass of curls. She wore bracelets of pearls and beads around her wrists too, wound tightly enough to conceal much of the skin of her lower arms. They were held in place with tight-fitting bangles — which, if Daniel didn’t know better, certainly looked like real gold. Daniel watched her out of the corner of his eye, fascinated by the unusual creature. She was aloof, she was beautiful, and she had apparently saved his life. Still, that didn't make sense -- in Daniel’s secondhand experience, Mer usually didn't concern themselves with the business of human lives, unless they had something to gain from it. It left one question burning in Daniel's mind.

"Why?"

Esmerelda's head snapped up. "Hmm?"

"You saved my life. I remember it. I was drowning.... and I couldn't breathe. That’s when I saw you. A girl with a tail swimming over me. I blacked out, but... you must have saved my life."

Esmerelda was silent. She was neither willing to confirm nor deny Daniel's claims. The boy swallowed before continuing. "W- where are the others? My crewmates? Did you save them too? Hale... did you save him?" At the mention of his friend, Daniel felt a lump rise in the back of his throat. The image of Hale hurling himself over the side of the ship played over and over in his head. "I wasn't able to..." His voice came out smaller than he intended, but he quickly cleared his throat before focusing on the Mer again. He didn't want to look pitiful, but he was unable to keep the desperation out of his tone. "Tell me you managed to save him!"

For a long moment the Mer was silent, her eyes trained on the water beneath her. Daniel's heart began to sink, as if it were weighed down by rocks. Without warning, Esmerelda reacted, in an unprecedented fashion -- her shoulders began to shake, and small, bitter, throaty noises escaped her mouth.

A creeping sense of dread pressed down on Daniel like a weight. "Why... why are you laughing?"

"Daniel..." In her rasp, his name sounded strange -- harder, cooler, almost twisted. She shook her head, finally raising her gaze to meet him. A wicked, amused spark danced in her eyes. "You don't know how lucky you are."

He could not breathe. "What do you mean?"

"Your friend is gone," she replied bluntly, and if he couldn't hear the bitterness underneath her words her would have called her tone apathetic. "Dead. You are never going to see him again."

Her words hit him like a physical blow, sending him reeling. Daniel fell back and cringed in on himself, his eyes widening as if he'd just been punched in the stomach. Esmerelda’s sharp eyes studied his reaction critically as Daniel pulled his knees up to his chest, hiding his face from view. His shoulders trembled.

"Hale..." he breathed, voice small and strained.

Images of a life spent alongside his best friend ran through his mind -- the serious little olive skinned boy who marched up to him on the first day of school and announced, “I’m Haleion. You can be my friend.” He remembered racing through the surf when they were barely more than children, challenging each other to see who was bold enough to jump off the highest cliff into the sea, exploring the sea caves... growing, learning, always alongside each other even after leaving school, when Hale’s parents had signed him onto a fishing vessel and Daniel had followed... until suddenly, they were no longer together.

Now they were separate. Broken. In an instant... everything was different.

No. That couldn’t be right. It couldn't work like that. It wasn’t right, it wasn’t fair! Things couldn't just change, in an instant. A life couldn't end as easily as that. Daniel's life couldn't be altered forever, just like that. He wouldn't accept it. His best friend was not dead.

"But... you..." He wheezed desperately for air he could not find. His head was shaking frantically, though he didn't realize it. "You're wrong. He jumped over." Hale hadn't been trapped below the deck like so many of the other crewmen when the ship was swallowed up the waves. He was in the water -- his element. "He could still be alive. Hale's one of the best swimmers I've ever seen!"

Esmerelda’s shoulders bobbed in a casual shrug. "Even the strongest swimmer couldn't hold up against a pod of sirens."

"Sirens?"

Esmerelda let out a low, rough laugh, reminding Daniel of nails scraping against stone. Her hands balled into fists at her sides. "What -- did you think your ship sank on its own? Oh no, foolish boy, it was the sirens. They’re the ones who drag ships down to the depths and then steal away with their sailors. Your little vessel didn't stand half a chance."

Daniel cringed into himself further. The Mer took a sadistic pleasure in continuing as she leaned forward. "They take them; and they drain them; and they snuff out their lives. Your crewmates are gone. The ones that survived the wreck have been taken by the sirens, and they'll never come back."

Daniel's fist shot out, slamming down on the stone floor of the cave with a loud smack. Startled, Esmerelda shot back, eyes widening.

"But --" Daniel gasped, finally managing to take in a breath of air. "But they're alive?" he demanded. "They were saved, like you saved me? They could still be alive!"

Esmerelda pushed herself back on her arms, eyeing Daniel as if he were a caged animal ready to snap. "They are," she responded carefully. "For now. That won't last. They're nothing but toys to them now… until they’re dead, that is. Once that happens, they won’t have any use for them..." Her words trailed off slowly as she noted the paleness to Daniel's skin, and the tense set to his shoulders -- he didn't dare look her in the eye. Even when she fell silent, he didn't utter a word.

Her pale eyebrow quirked. "You're quiet," she observed in a cool voice. "Why?"

"Are... are you..." The icy, hollow fist locked around his throat made getting the words out almost impossible. At last, with a deep inhale, he managed to gasp out his true fears. "Are you a siren too?"

"No."

Esmerelda's reply was immediate -- and it was spoken in such a flat, cold tone that Daniel found himself taken aback. When he looked at the Mer, her face was expressionless. "I'm not one of them.”

"Then why am I here?"

It was such a simple question, but it made the Mer go still. Daniel turned to her, his eyes wide, desperate to receive an answer -- he needed to understand. "Esmerelda, why did you save me?"

She didn't reply. His brow knit in frustration. "Tell me, please! Why not leave me to drown? Why not let them have me? Tell me!" he cried, voice finally breaking on the last word.

The Mer drew back, astonishment written on her face. She hadn’t been expecting him to grow so affected, and indeed Daniel was almost surprised by himself. He didn’t like to put his negative emotions on display, but never before had he felt so overwhelmed. There was no other way he could react. He inhaled a shuddering breath, squeezing his eyes shut before looking back up at the Mer again.

“Please. I need to know.”

Esmerelda seemed close to speaking, but swallowed her words again. The action was halfway hidden by the thick covering of beads around her throat. Training her attention elsewhere, she began to drag her fingers through her hair again, pulling her tail up on the rock next to her. For a moment, even in his current condition, Daniel found himself awed by the sleek, powerful instrument which was the end of Esmerelda’s body. It reminded him almost of the tail of a dolphin -- with all the power and lethal precision of a shark. He could imagine her slicing through the waves with ease. Even in her current position, should he try to overpower her (not that he had any reason to, or wanted to at all) the slightest blow from her tail could send him reeling into the water.

“I’m not sure.”

Her words startled him. He looked up at her, eyes wide. Her own gaze flickered towards him, and there was the slightest crease of frustration between her brows.

“I don’t know why I saved you.”

“What do you mean?”

“I don't know. There wasn't time to think.” Esmeralda seemed to shut off entirely. It felt like a door slamming in Daniel’s face. Her eyes were cool as she regarded him. “I don't know what to do with you now. I can take you close to shore, I suppose, but you'll have to swim the rest of the way --”

“No!”

The word left Daniel’s mouth before he could think about it. He didn't realize what he's said until he registered the surprise on Esmerelda’s face. Only then did he become aware of the vice in his chest, an steely determination freezing his insides. “I can't go home,” he said; and only once the words left his lips did he realize how true they were.

Annoyance flickered in Esmerelda’s eyes. Daniel breezed on before she could protest. “These sirens… the ones that took Hale. How many do you think there are?”

Esmerelda shrugged, frowning at him. “A typical pod hosts eight sirens. They were taken by the Thessaloniké pod, which only hosts seven. What are you planning?”

If he were being honest with himself, Daniel didn't know. He wasn't sure of anything anymore.

The one thing he knew for certain was this: Hale was gone. Daniel was not able to protect him.

He had never been the strong one of the two; he had been aware of this since they were children. It was always Hale who possessed iron will. Hale, with the uncanny ability of never betraying his thoughts to anyone (except Daniel). Hale, who seemed to fear nothing and face everything with the same unbendable readiness. Hale, who could make even the simplest action such as picking up a piece of charcoal look like it mattered.

If it were Daniel in the clutches of such creatures, he had no doubt his friend would not hesitate to save him.

Loathe as he was to admit it, the decision wasn’t in front of Hale — it belonged to him. And Daniel was… afraid. Never before had he faced anything so frightening and unknown. He never considered it was possible to lose such a huge part of his life, maybe his entire life, in just a moment. He never survived a shipwreck, he’d never been rescued by a Mer, and he never faced down monsters. He was entirely out of any realm of familiarity, and he was frightened.

He also knew that he could not be afraid. He needed to be stronger right now. Hale needed him to be stronger, and so did the rest of his crewmates. He needed to take decisive action.

He had to do this.

A soft splash, a disturbance in the normal, rhythmic wave patterns, alerted him to Esmerelda’s presence once more. When he glanced up, the Mer was still anticipating an answer to her question. She was waiting to see what he would do next.

What would he do?

Daniel swallowed past the burn of salt in his throat. “Esmerelda, what can you tell me about the sirens?”

Maybe this was the answer Esmerelda's had been expecting; maybe it wasn't. Either way, the Mer betrayed no surprise.

There was a lot the Daniel already knew, or at least had a clue about — but Esmerelda had leagues more information than he’d ever heard. Mer and sirens were largely the same species, separated by one crucial point; sirens had enchanted singing voices capable of putting any creature under their spell. This was a siren’s main purpose -- to bewitch unwitting victims and lure them to their deaths.

Mer, not endowed with the same vocal gifts, were otherwise very similar to their siren sisters. Both species travelled in pods; both were reclusive and cautious of humans, Mer moreso. “Humans can be dangerous to us,” was all Esmerelda said, but Daniel remembered seeing unusual things in darker corners of his village market -- mermaid scales, hair, and even tails.

Siren pods, Esmerelda explained, were very close knit. They did not just travel together. They lived together in the same cave, ate together, hunted together, and considered themselves family.

“They all work in tandem to capture their prey. They take their prey back to the same cave that they live in. There they place them up on stone pedestals they’ve created -- easy to climb, far to fall. The sirens sleep all day and sing all night, while the enchanted men sit there until they rot.”

“They just… stay there? They don’t try to leave, to eat, anything?”

Esmerelda smirked. “The only thing they care about, from the moment a single strain of that song crosses their ears, is the music. They will not want to eat; they will not want to sleep. If you take them away from the siren’s songs, they will go mad. They will kill themselves, throw themselves into the sea. They can’t live without it any longer.”

Daniel was vaguely aware of his fingernails digging harshly into his palms. Glancing down, he realized with a dim surprise that he managed to draw blood. Esmeralda was still eyeing him warily, even more so as he quickly wiped his palms off on his shorts, leaving crimson streaks on the already stained fabric. “There’s got to be some way to break the spell.”

Esmerelda let out a disdainful snort. “Perhaps. Each siren can only hold one victim at once, and a human can only hear a single siren song; once that music has taken root in their mind, the bond formed is breakable only in death. To break the spell you’d have to kill the siren, which is almost impossible. You can't get close enough before they can open their mouths..”

Daniel swallowed thickly. “Do… do you know why they take humans? What do they need them for?”

Esmerelda’s thin lips pursed as she studied the rough surface of a rock. Her fingernail traced patterns into the coarse surface. “Sport, sometimes. Mostly survival. They need them to stay young. Sirens do more than hold men under their spell, they drain their life force. Without that, sirens will eventually perish.”

“Perish? Like, you mean… die?”

She stared at him coolly. “No, I mean turn into birds and fly off into the sky forever. Yes, I mean die! Haven’t you ever read a book, boy?”

“Of course I have! How have you read books? You live underwater!”

She rolled her eyes, propping herself up on her elbows at the edge of the pool. There was a glint of amusement in her eyes, one that made Daniel wonder if the answer to his question was obvious. Perhaps it was. Suddenly it occurred to Daniel that their ship had been sailing nowhere near any sort of caves or rock fixtures; he had to have been transported here somehow, possibly underwater, for an indefinite (but likely long) period of time. He shouldn't have been able to survive in the water for that long.

“It’s a Mer gift. As long as we are holding onto something, water does not affect it as it would. Humans, objects, books -- it's all the same. As long as you are in the clutches of a Mer…” Reaching down, she carefully managed the thin sash of beads strung around her waist before pulling something from her waist and flopping it onto land, triumphant. “Water cannot destroy. It can only revive.”

Daniel’s gaze hitched upon the brown leather-bound book that was now lying on the rock floor. Tentatively, he crawled towards it, heart pounding and mind racing. Just a glance told him what he was looking at. He still could not bring himself to believe it. It was supposed to have been lost…

He picked up the book, and the dampness of the cover filled his heart with heaviness; surely it’s contents, then, would not have been preserved. But as he thumbed through the first few pages, he realized with awe that every single one of the sketches in Hale’s book were exactly as they had been. The water had not destroyed them at all.

“D-do you-” He cut himself off, taking a deep breath. “Do you realize what this is?”

The quirk of the Mer’s head was answer enough. Daniel clutched the book to his chest as if it were something precious -- and it was.

“It’s the notebook we shared. This is Hale’s sketchbook. He -- he poured his heart into this.”

“Oh.” The word was hollow, emotionless. A hint of disinterest creeped into the Mer’s eyes. “I thought the drawings were nice.”

For some reason -- perhaps it was seeing the sketchbook right in front of him, being able to hold it in his hands, or maybe the simple fact that just hours ago Hale had been by his side, and there was no way such a huge part of his life could have vanished in an instant -- all of a sudden, Daniel knew what he had to do. It was risky. It was even insane. There was a good chance that he would die. Still, Daniel knew what he must be done.

“We have to save him.”

A small, throaty noise sounded from her throat as Esmerelda’s attention was drawn back to him. The bafflement in her expression did little to deter Daniel’s mounting determination. “You’re going to take me down to the cave, wherever they’re holding them -- and you must know where it is, because you know everything else -- and I’m going to save Hale. I'm going to save everyone.”

“You can’t.” Esmerelda’s tone was hard, with incredulity. “Hero Boy, there is no saving what has already been lost! He has been taken by the ocean, and you can't get him back!”

That was what Daniel had thought about the sketchbook too; but now it was sitting in front of him. All hope couldn't be lost. As long as Hale was alive, there was hope.

“You don’t know Hale.” On his feet now, Daniel’s pulse began to quicken. The sketchbook was still clutched tightly in his arms; he doubted any force on earth could make him relinquish it. “He's strong. If I can get to him, I know I'll be able to save him!”

“And if you can't? If you are unable to talk him out of his trance? What then?”

“Then…” Daniel’s eyes narrowed; his normally gentle face shifted into an expression of cold determination. There was no other way out. “Then I'll kill the siren. I'll kill whoever it is who’s enchanted Hale, and I'll get him back.”

“What if --” The scary intensity had returned to Esmerelda’s eyes. “-- his bewitcher winds up being the pod queen herself?”

Daniel swallowed thickly. His head was pounding, but his voice was firm; he spoke with all the assurance of a man who knew what he had to do.

“Then I'll kill the queen, and rescue my friend.”

Esmerelda stared at him for a long moment, face unreadable. “You,” she finally said, “are a remarkable kind of fool, boy.”


	4. The Worst Kind of Idea

If there ever was an absolutely insane idea -- and over the course of his life Daniel’d had quite a few -- raiding the lair of a deadly pod of sirens to rescue a boy who had no intention of going anywhere had to be the worst. This was a truth Daniel accepted the moment he resolved that no matter what it took, he was going to save his best friend.

“Has anyone ever told you, Daniel Redihess, that you’re too stubborn for your own good?”

“Sure. Hale tells me that all the time.”

Of course, it being a terrible idea wasn't going to stop him. Instead, his lack of any real plan only motivated him further. The fact that his newfound Mer acquaintance was willing to go along with it assured him that as bad of an idea as this was, it couldn't wind up being catastrophic. He doubted Esmerelda was willing to put herself at risk.

They swam for what felt like hours: though in truth, Esmerelda was doing most of the swimming, towing Daniel behind her like an unruly toddler. Her statement proved true. As long as Daniel was by her side, water didn't affect him the way it ought to. He wasn't breathing, but he didn't need to be. Where his eyes would otherwise have been blinded by the darkness of the water, they now seemed hypersensitive to light. He had little trouble keeping them open. Though hesitant to call it magic, there was clearly some phenomena happening that Daniel couldn't explain -- influenced, he could only guess, by the presence of her.

“This won't work,” she muttered under her breath, for the seventh time since they'd started out. Daniel’s only reply was a low hum. Esmerelda had been bemoaning the futility of his plan since they began. At this point, Daniel wasn't sure who she was trying to convince; he wasn’t about to give up. As long as she showed no signs of slowing, however, Esmerelda could complain all she liked. The growing tension in her voice told him all he needed to know. They were close.

In the way of plans, he had… nothing. He was operating off of vague notions of heroics, adrenaline, and desperation. The best Daniel could do was just sneak into the siren’s lair, hope and pray that he wouldn't run into any unfriendly cave dwellers, grab Hale and… go. That was his plan: go in, get Hale, and get out. The rest could wait until later. At the moment, his only objective was getting his friend to safety.

(His crewmates too, of course, but Hale was Daniel’s first priority. He could bring an entire ship to rescue his crewmates once he and Hale got back to the mainland. He would make sure everyone was safe. Hale just had to be safe first.)

What if something went wrong? He was well aware that his plan’s probability of success was low. If something did go awry he'd be trapped, lost… and would meet the same fate as the rest of the sirens’ victims. The thought terrified him. Daniel was not a warrior; not a hardened sailor; he wasn’t even a grown man. He did not want to die. He also knew that he could not live knowing that he had done nothing.

“We're here.”

Esmerelda’s voice was low, laced with unease. Being this close to the cave clearly filled her with unease; Daniel couldn't say that he didn't feel the same. The entrance, mouth gaping wide in the stone face, looked ominous through the dark veil of water. Even from the outside it was easy to tell that the cavern was large; rocks encircled a wide area, convalescing in a smooth dome far above the caveface. High edifices stretched up and along the sea floor, forming an intricate abyss of rock. Jagged stones stretched up to the still waters above. To any ship passing this far out, they would look like nothing more than a few unruly rocks. They could not see the sprawling rock kingdom just beneath the surface.

Daniel wouldn't have been surprised if there was a waterline inside, likely air for the hostages to breathe. The sirens couldn't remain by their sides at all times, of course. They had to leave them unattended. The cave looked ominous, but it was not impossible to escape from. Why, then, did the trapped boys not flee the first chance they got? Were the sirens’ spells really so strong?

Unease gripped Daniel like a vice. Nothing about this was right. A sense of dread was swelling steadily within him; if he allowed it to grow, it would swallow him up. Stubborn as ever, he squashed it back down, forcing a deep breath into his lungs.

“I won't go in there with you,” Esmerelda said suddenly, her voice hard. Daniel jerked to look at her. 

“What? What do you mean?”

“I can't. There's air inside if you swim for it, and maybe you'll be able to get out again. But I can't follow you.”

Without Esmerelda’s help, this was a suicide mission. Daniel was smart enough to realize his odds. If he went in, there was next to no chance of him getting out alive.

He turned back to the cave and steeled himself. “Alright. That doesn't change my mind.”

Esmerelda was silent for a moment. “You'll die in there, you know.”

“Maybe.” Probably. “Loyalty is a funny thing.”

Daniel ran his hand through his hair. Had he needed air underwater, he would have sucked in a deep breath; as it was, he simply grit his teeth. Emerald eyes met the Mer’s steel-clad jade a final time. “Thank you, Esmerelda. For saving my life, and bringing me here. You didn't need to do any of it. I really couldn't be more grateful.”

Esmerelda didn't reply, brows furrowed as she stared into the recesses of the cavern. Slowly, one by one, her fingers began to unhook themselves from where they had been twined around Daniel’s own. Seconds later, her palm fled his. Daniel’s empty hand was left feeling bare. He turned his head to catch a glimpse of her again, but was startled to find empty water in her place. She had already vanished.

As soon as Esmerelda took her leave, the magic she brought with her began to wear off. Though still able to see clearly in the murky waters, a pressure was beginning to build in Daniel’s chest. There was no time to spare. Kicking forward, he began to swim -- directly into the siren’s lair.

This could lead to his death; it probably would. That was okay, he decided (even though it really wasn't). Dying as a failed rescuer was better than returning home alone, knowing that he left his friends to their doom. If Daniel did that, he wouldn't be able to live with himself. No honor lay in survival won out of cowardice.

The cavern was dark; an all-encompassing blackness that clung to you like clue, as tangible as it was impenetrable. It only seemed to grow darker the further in he swam. The entrance was deep enough underwater that all light was cut off. Down here, the temperature of the water dropped. Chills shot through Daniel’s exhausted bones. As the gloom grew murkier, it was impossible to see a thing. He was swimming blind, into the mouth of a danger he couldn't anticipate.

Ice was filling Daniel’s veins; his lungs screamed for air. Just as the fierce grip of panic began to choke him, a light appeared out of the darkness. It was a miracle, salvation when he least expected it. Awestruck, he could only swim towards it. The moment he broke water, a harsh gasp tore from his chest. Desperately needed air flooded his lungs, and he could have cried with the relief of it.

His jubilation was cut off the second he realized that he was not alone. Hissing, raspy breaths sounded from every side of the darkened cavern. A sudden panic seized him like a predator’s claws. Daniel swiveled in the water, wide eyes straining to make out any details of his location.

The sirens’ cavern was wider than the one Esmerelda had brought him too, and just as dissimilar in layout. There was no smooth stone floor on which to take refuge. Instead, the entire cave floor was filled with water, doubtlessly leading back down into the open ocean. Daniel could see his surroundings thanks only to the great hole in the cave’s rock ceiling, visible upon looking up. In the evening, it would doubtlessly cast a wide circle of moonlight down into the cavern; now, it illuminated the center of the pool with sunlight. Outside of the light, Daniel could make out little of the cavern walls; all he could tell was that the stone seemed to glitter, shimmering in the exposed daylight. Daniel had emerged in the lightest area of the cave, this circle of sun. For a moment, he held still and listened. The heavy breathing of more bodies than he could count confirmed to him for certain that he was not alone. The sirens were here, just as he had feared. Out of sight… lurking just in the shadows.

“They sleep in the daytime, but that doesn't mean they aren't dangerous,” Esmerelda had warned him. “Don't wake them up.”

There was a unique horror in being alone with the beast, but blind to its location. The realization that death could be lurking just below him while he was ignorant to it had Daniel’s own breath hitching in fear. Suddenly, he wanted nothing more than to get out of the water.

His eyes strained for the location of the sirens’ hostages. He didn’t have to search long; it was just as hard to miss as Esmerelda said. The great stone pillars which rose out of the sea were startling if only because of how well they blended into the darkened sides of the cave. Had Daniel not been looking, he doubted he would have seen them at all; but once he found them, they were impossible to ignore. The massive, towering mountains stretched high above his head. The jagged stone could easily be climbed by someone with enough strength. Hand and footholds were practically worn into the limestone. Looking up, Daniel could not see the tops of them; he could only imagine what could be up there. Thankfully, he had a vivid imagination, and Esmerelda’s word as law.

He smothered down the urge to call out to Hale. As he heaved out of the water on the edge of a pillar, he was conscious of the fact that he must remain quiet. To wake the sirens would be condemning himself, and he was here to save his friends, not get them all killed. He dug his fingers into the rock, and began to ascend.

Maybe they wouldn't even have to swim out at all. Maybe he could heave Hale out the window at the top of the cavern, and they could both escape that way. If his best friend was injured or reluctant, that might be the easiest option, but first Daniel had to find him --

He heaved himself onto the flat top of the pillar, and immediately a great pressure seemed to melt from his chest. The sight before him was as welcome as an embrace. He had hoped -- oh, he hardly dared to hope -- but now, in front of him, was the person he had yearned to find.

“Hale,” he gasped. “Hale!”

His best friend’s figure was unmistakeable. Hunched on the flat stone top, Hale knelt on his hands and knees. His head was bent, a dark mess of damp hair hanging in his face. His olive skin looked even darker in the shadows, accentuating every one of the sleek muscles in his arms and back. He was shirtless; water cast a glimmering sheen over his limbs. He did not look up at the sound of Daniel's voice, but everything about him was still unequivocably Haleion.

"I was so worried!" Daniel gasped out, scrambling across the stone to his friend. "I thought you were dead! You drowned, you were captured -- how could you do that? Are you insane? You jumped over the side of -- oh -- by the Ancient Ones, you're here."

Caught in a tight embrace against Daniel's chest, Hale remained limp and unresponsive. That was okay, Daniel decided. They had to get Hale out, and every other worry could come later. First, he had to save Hale.

But what about the rest of his crew? The realization hit Daniel like an unpleasant jolt to his entire system as it dawned on him that it would not be that easy. Not only did he have to locate Hale, but he needed to find the rest of his crewmates as well. Esmerelda had sworn that everyone who survived the shipwreck would be brought here -- so where were they?

Daniel’s eyes desperately scanned the darkness, seeking out the pillars around him. There wasn't enough light for him to make out much, but he could discern shadowy figures hunched on the pillars of stone surrounding them. The dark masses trembled, shifted, but still did not move -- similar to Hale’s own state. Daniel’s throat was suddenly dry, searing with pain. “N-Nicolas?” he choked out, and one of the dark forms twitched. “Clyde? Erik? Ray?”

One by one, the shadowed figures shifted on their posts, as if heads were turning in Daniel’s direction. Glassy eyes gleamed out at him from the darkness, familiar in a way that sent a cold chill straight to Daniel’s bones. They were here. His crewmates, his friends, were all trapped in this watery prison. As their shining eyes stared back at him, the reality of the situation was at once terribly clear.

Daniel could not leave them all to rot here. It would be a worse fate by far than dying in a shipwreck. He needed to save them. He had to save them all.

He seized Hale’s arm with a furious grip, jolting his friend to the side. “Get up,” he said, but fell still at the sight of his friend’s eyes. Hale’s head lolled to look up at him, face slack and gaze empty. There was no flicker of life in his best friend’s features; only glassy, detached acknowledgement. When he shook Hale again, his best friend did not respond except to allow his head to fall against his other shoulder.

“Come on! I've come to help you!” Daniel exclaimed, voice strangled with fear. "I've come to take you home! Don't you want to go home?"

Hale stared at him with uncomprehending eyes. "I want to hear the music,” he said, the first words he uttered. His voice was just as hollow as his eyes, wisp-thin and empty.

Daniel gave his best friend's arm another desperate tug. Hale did not budge. He remained firmly rooted to the spot, out of stubbornness, magic, or a mix of the two. “Hale! Get up! I won't leave you here!”

Hale did not respond, even as Daniel’s nails clawed at the skin of his arms. Frantic, Daniel tore his attention away from his enchanted friend to the shadows of his crewmates. “I want to bring you all home! Nicolas, don't you want to see your mother again? Ray, what about your girl? Why won't any of you move?”

They couldn't go anywhere. They were in the grip of magic far greater than them, and it left them all paralyzed. Even panicked as he was, Daniel could see that arguing would be of no use. Yelling would not pierce the bespelled fog of their brains. There had to be another way. He could find a rope and lift them through the cave ceiling, he could knock his friends out and drag them away --

“Wake up!” he said again, voice rising in desperation. “Wake up, please!”

A sudden stirring in the waters below turned his body to stone. Daniel froze on the top of the pillar, eyes widening in chilled realization. He had forgotten, in his determination to rescue his friends, that they were not alone in the cave.

His efforts to stir his friends had awakened something much darker.

"Who's there?" called out a honey-sweet voice from the darkness, in an inquisitive drawl. "Do we have a visitor?"

Panic shot through Daniel's brain as his blood turned to ice. He was caught.

"I hear you," crooned another voice from the shadows. "I see you..."

There was a splash below him, and Daniel made the mistake of looking down. He caught sight of gleaming golden eyes, and couldn't have regretted it more. He shot away from the pillar's edge, but not quick enough to avoid being spotted.

"There you are." A warm laugh, like the son of windchimes hanging outside Daniel's childhood home, ran throughout the cave. "Come down, silly boy."

Despite every surety that it was an awful trap, Daniel felt compelled to do what the voice said. An urge from the darkest depths of his mind drew him closer to the pillar's edge, where they irresistible tone still chimed. "Won't you let me see your face? I want to look at you... there you are."

She was beautiful -- a vision of translucence, a flat nose and pale skin, eyes that shone like blue fire. Dark curtains of hair hung in her face, a midnight brown adorned by hundreds of tiny, glimmering pearls. Serrated gills ran along the side of her neck. Her ears curved upwards in knife-sharp points. Though she looked distinctly inhuman, she was every bit the vision her beguiling voice would suggest.

"You're very handsome." The siren smiled from far below him. "What's your name?"

He answered without thinking, unconscious of the words leaving his lips. The siren's teeth flashed in a gleaming, lethal grin. "Daniel,” she crooned. His name leaving her mouth sounded like poetry. “Will you let me sing for you?"

He didn't realize he was nodding until she opened her mouth fully, sinking back down into the water. Suddenly the cave was filled with the most gorgeous sound Daniel had ever heard -- what could not be called music, purely because it transcended any other song in existence. It was by no means manmade; man could never make something so glorious. The sweet, untainted rapture of the siren's voice sent Daniel slumping forward, eyed widening and mouth falling open in awe. He didn't register the last of his fear draining away. All he knew was that he was no longer desperate. It seemed as if a heady fear had been weighing on him, a need to do something, to save someone. Now, he no longer felt so burdened. It was okay to sit here, to relax, to not worry. He could let go. He wanted nothing more than to focus on the music and let go.

With Hale. Hale was here too, wasn't he? He was here with his best friend, listening to the most beautiful song on earth, and Hale --

Hale.

 

Daniel's heart dropped down to his toes, and he moved before his brain could process it. With one quick shove, he sent himself over the edge of the pillar and hurtling downwards towards the water below.

The song cut off with a sharp noise as Daniel hit the water hard, right where the siren had been. As the creature ducked out of the way, he emerged with a gasp. His body stung. Hair clung to his face, and his head was fogged to the point that cognition was impossible. Still, he forced himself to tread water, fighting to focus.

A chorus of serpentine hisses around him reminded him that he wasn't alone. He was in a cave full of sirens who knew he was there, and his life was in grave peril.

Daniel couldn't wait any longer. He ducked beneath the water and began to swim.

The last of Esmerelda's magic had worn away. He could not see a thing in the darkness of the cave. If there was an exit (there had to be), it was too dark for him to find it. Within half a minute, his lungs were burning again, and a frantic Daniel was forced to surface for air.

Swim, he reminded himself furiously. He had to keep swimming.

Still, there was the music. Every cell in his body was compelling him to go still, to stay, to hear that music once more.

His movements were growing sluggish, and the arms that fought against the water gradually stilled. He knew being in the water meant he needed to swim, but what was the reason to swim when the most glorious melody in the world? The music had started again, so close this time, that he could barely remember why he felt so frightened in the first place. Surely there was nothing wrong. The cave was dark, and he couldn't see the hands running along his back, but surely nothing --

An iron grip locked around his ankles and dragged him below the waves.


	5. Jewel of The Eclipse

Had Daniel been any less enchanted, and any more aware of his surroundings, his first instinct would have been to panic. As it was, he could not bring himself to thrash against the grip tugging him underwater with alarming force. The terror that should have flooded him alongside the water filling his lungs was not there; nor, for that matter, was the water. Daniel’s haze did not extend to blanding him to his surroundings, so he was at least able to tell when darkness enveloped him as the light from the cave above vanished.

Drowning should not be so easy. It shouldn't be painless, almost anticlimactic. He ougly to be choking, struggling, fighting. There was no struggle, however... no alarm... no reason he could see to fight back against the grip that dragged him down…

Until it dawned on him that he was no longer able to hear the bewitching voices from above.

That was when he began to thrash -- with such sudden violence that he almost managed to get free. He wrenched one leg out of its restraint, rearing back to kick at his captor. Slowed by water, his foot connected with nothing. As he extended his arms and fought to swim up, the hand around his ankle locked once more; sharp nails dug into his flesh, only dragging him deeper.

This couldn't happen. He couldn't leave. He could not abandon those voices, that sweet melody which embraced him utterly. He needed to be back with them, to stay there. He _couldn't leave_ \--

Thrash as he might, there was no breaking free. His panic was not an urgency for air, despite being held underwater for so long; he was desperate to return to the song he could still hear ringing in his head. It lingered just out of reach, tantalizing but not enough to satisfy him. If he did not return the music, it would never desert him, he would never be satisfied... he was going to go mad.

The music, the music — he needed the music!

They broke water unexpectedly. As Daniel’s head emerged above the waves he let out a heavy gasp, though his lungs weren't really burning at all. The first thing he caught sight of was the shore -- glorious shore, just a short swim away from him. The beach seemed abandoned, not along the border of any Coastal town he recognized. Still, it was land. Just last night, he had imagined he would not live to see land again.

Land meant life. Safety. Home.

But the _music_ \--

A harsh grip to his hair seized him suddenly from behind. His head jerked backwards. A sudden noise shattered his eardrums -- ragged and shrill, a cross between a wail and a screech. A cry tore from his lips, but the sound swallowed it up. It pierced his head, racketing agony through his entire skull. His mind exploded. He saw red, then white. It was all he could do not to moan aloud.

Even after the howl died off, it still rang in Daniel’s ears. His hearing was dulled, shattered to pieces by the awful noise. When he opened his eyes, his head spun. He felt the hand in his hair release him, shoving him in the direction of the shore, but only instinct drove him forward.

Once he found himself embraced by the surf, sand solid under his back, the energy that had propelled him on drained all at once. He slumped back, a soft groan escaping him as the waves crested at his feet. The water here was warm, just deep enough to wash over his toes. Sun beat down on his bare chest. It was tempting to give himself up to sleep after the ordeal he had gone through.

Until a sharp jab to the side caused him to startle awake.

“I hope you're satisfied.”

He was not alone. The realization should have come to him earlier, but now that it had he found himself startled. Of course he wasn't alone -- he had been dragged out of that cave by someone, and that someone was not a siren.

Daniel blinked bleary, half-lidded eyes at his savior. His head was filled with molasses; the glare of the sun made it hard to discern the figure in front of him. Still, she was unmistakable. "Es… Esmerelda?

The Mer heaved a sigh, shoulders bunching up to cast her in a better light. Daniel could make out the shadowed scowl on her face, barely concealed exhaustion and annoyance. Esmerelda made little effort to disguise her emotions; now, she was blatantly fed up.

“Since you figured that out, I guess your brain hasn't turned to sea foam after all."

“Can -- can that happen?” Daniel tried to push himself up, still feeling dazed, but quickly aborted the attempt. Esmerelda huffed again.

“Had you spent any longer in that cave, I wouldn't have been able to save you. You're lucky they didn't get their claws in you.”

“What would’ve happened then?” Daniel could tell his words were coming out slurred, but it was hard to care when talking took up so much effort. The Mer glowered over him. Esmerelda was pretty much the only thing that wasn't spinning.

“They would have cracked you open,” she enunciated, voice hard. “Like a clam. And eaten you.”

“Oh,” said Daniel, nodding his head (that made sense, probably), before his consciousness slipped from under him all at once. He had no time to realize he was falling before he passed out cold in the sand.

* * *

Consciousness returned to Daniel slowly. It ebbed and flowed, as shallow as the waves coasting along the shore. He was first aware of the pounding in his head; then the ache in his entire body; then memory returned, sudden enough that he was sent bolting upright.

Immediately, he was hit with a headrush so severe that he came close to collapsing again. Lounging in the surf a few feet away, running long webbed fingers through her hair, Esmerelda lifted an eyebrow at him.

“Oh, are you alive? Pity. I thought the fish would get a nice meal from your corpse.”

“You are a shockingly unpleasant person,” Daniel groaned, pushing himself up with less abandon. A sunburned hand cradled his head. Everything hurt. His body felt as if it had been put through a clothes-wringer and come out the other side, twisted and mangled with his organs scrambled around.

Still, he was alive. He was alive and safe… which was more than he could say for his crewmates.

“Are you pleased with yourself?” Esmerelda leaned forward on both elbows, that familiar snake-fang gleam in her eyes. “You almost died for nothing. As great a plan as that was, I think you had a different outcome in mind. Nice job waking the sirens, though. They’re definitely fun when just woken up. And they love guests.”

She paused, and Daniel raised an eyebrow, wondering if she was finished. She was not. “Really,” she laughed, “I’ve never in my life seen a plan so stupid! What, did you think you’d just drag them out of there? No, no, no. I told you it wouldn’t work, but you didn’t listen. Foolish human boy. I hope you got exactly what you expected.”

“Considering I’m alive,” replied Daniel, “no. I didn’t.”

Esmerelda grinned. “It was a suicide mission, then?”

“Almost.” Daniel waited a beat, gauging the expression on the Mer’s face. There was no hint of gentleness; she did not strike the idealized image of a hero. “You saved me.”

Just as suddenly as she’s shown her sadistic interest, Esmerelda drew back. Daniel could see her shut off, as clearly as a curtain falling on a darkened stage. Rather than be deterred, he pushed forward. “How did you do it? How did you break the spell?”

The Mer’s eyes flashed. She shot Daniel a look that made it clear that he should stop asking -- if he valued his own skin. Rather than give in, Daniel inched across the sand towards her.

“You broke the spell. With that -- that shriek. What was that?”

“My singing,” Esmerelda said finally, voice tight. “I sang to snap you out of it. It only worked because the spell hadn’t fully gotten to you yet. I couldn’t do the same to help your friends.”

Daniel blinked, startled to the point of disbelief. He was reluctant to believe that a sound so terrible could ever come from a person. As if sensing his doubt, Esmerelda rounded her glare on his again. Her lips parted in a show of defiance, and before Daniel could even clamp his hands over his ears she emitted a high-pitched screech.

Shockwaves of pain sent him doubling over, groaning as his face hit the sand. The shrill noise lasted no more than a few seconds, but it was enough to render him immobile. He writhed in place for a few minutes, head still ringing, before he finally found the strength to pull his hands away from his ears.

He was alarmed to find them stained with bright crimson. When he looked back up at Esmerelda, there was no remorse in her face.

“I can’t sing,” she said flatly. “That’s what separates me from them. My voice… has abandoned me.”

“Please don’t ever do that again,” said Daniel. She nodded stiffly, leaning back in the surf.

He could only bear to sit still for a few moments longer; even then, it was because his body demanded it. Daniel’s physical condition was far from its peak, but remaining idle still seemed like a waste of time. How could he sit when his friends were still in mortal peril? With a grunt, he at last began to move.

Esmerelda’s eyes trailed him, sharp as shards of cut glass. There was something critical in her expression, scrutinizing and unsympathetic. It was a struggle for Daniel not to falter. Instead, he forced his shoulders back against Esmerelda’s stare and pulled himself up.

He meant to climb to his feet, but exhausted legs gave out at the last second. His knees hit the ground hard, sending up small clouds of sand. When his face twisted in a grimace, Esmerelda snorted.

“It’s not funny.”

“It is. A bit.”

Daniel had never felt more drained in his life. All he wanted was to lay his head down and rest for a while. He was acutely aware, however, of the necessity of moving. Every second he wasted was a second Hale might not have. No matter how his head pounded and his joints felt like they were decaying, there was no time to remain still.

“Okay,” he said, “so what are we going to do now?”

Esmerelda let out an unamused bark of laughter. “We? What do you mean?”

“What’s our plan?”

“Your plan. I’m not involved in any of this.”

“You just saved my life, again. That makes two times in under a day, so I’d say you’re more than involved.” Perhaps it was cruel, but it gave Daniel pleasure to see her flinch. “So, what do we do? There has to be a way. We could drive the sirens out of your cave, or amplify your voice somehow --”

“We’re not using my voice,” said Esmerelda, short and sharp.

“Why not?”

“Because I said no, and it’s my voice!”

The logic in this was sound; but it seemed so utterly selfish that, for a moment, Daniel was rendered speechless. He could not comprehend how Esmerelda could be so bullheaded when it came to something that really mattered. Saving his friends was his highest priority. If her voice could do the same for them as it had for him --

“The fact that it worked with you was luck. They wouldn’t stand a chance, even if I could get close enough to sing to them. They’re caught in the spell. There’s no way to break it.”

“There has to be a way!”

“There isn’t,” she replied coolly. “And it isn’t my problem. I should have just left you in the cave, but I _can_ leave you now. You’re on land. You’ll live.”

He wouldn’t be able to live -- not without Hale. How could Daniel return to his village and face his family? How could he face Hale’s family when he knew he had abandoned their son to his fate? It wasn’t just inconceivable -- it was impossible. He couldn’t give up, not when he had been so close and failed.

Esmerelda was his only chance. Without her knowledge, he would have no clue what he was running into. Without Esmerelda’s help, he wouldn’t be able to save his friends.

“And what about you?” he demanded, voice taking on an edge of ice. “You’ll go back to… what, swimming on your own? You said Met travel in pods, so where is yours?” He paused, watching her eyes dart away. “You don’t have one. You’re all alone, aren’t you? So what are you so afraid of?”

Esmerelda’s eyes flashed. Her lips curled back in a snarl, revealing sharpened teeth. Daniel pressed on, undeterred.

“Take this chance. Turn your voice into something good. It’s not like you have anything to lose! Help me save my friends, and I’ll help you.” He was bargaining now, but desperate times called for desperate measures. “Anything you need. I’ll do it.”

Esmerelda, half-submerged in the water, suddenly went still. Past the tangled mess of sopping curls, she peered up at Daniel through narrowed eyes. He could feel himself being studied, scrutinized. Perhaps Esmerelda did not like what she saw, because her lips curled like he was something revulsive.

“You humans are all the same,” she muttered. “Lies, and bargains, and _lies_ \--”

“I’m not lying!” Daniel insisted, taking a step closer to her. “I just need your help. If you know of a way -- any way -- that we can save my friends, I’ll do it. I just --”

His words caught in a suddenly swollen throat. Daniel choked down a whimper. It was hard to breathe past the panic that was slowly suffocating him, but he forced himself to. He needed to keep a cool head. He needed to stay collected and focused, for his friends’ sakes.

“I just don’t want them to die at the hands of those monsters,” he whispered, before inhaling a shaky breath. Esmerelda watched him for a long moment. Silence reigning over the both of them. It was heavy as a curtain, dull as a rock. Daniel felt dizzy beneath its weight. It wasn’t long before his hands balled into fists, rough fingernails digging into his calloused palms. When he finally looked up at Esmerelda again, he found himself taken aback by the expression on her face.

She no longer looked dismissive; there wasn’t even any lingering anger, save for the echo of it in her cold gaze. Instead, she appeared thoughtful. It was a few dragging seconds before she spoke, but when she did her words fell like bladepoints upon Daniel’s sensitive skin and nerves.

“There is a potion,” she said. _“Lass Vassaie di Foní.”_

The words were unfamiliar to him, the tongue even moreso; but Daniel could recognize a spark of hope when he saw one. As his face lit up, Esmerelda continued to pierce him with her stare.

“It was designed specifically for siren use. It… neutralizes the destructive effects of the magic. It isn’t easy to make, and can only be brewed with specific ingredients beneath a blue moon…”

“A blue moon? That’s in three days.”

“It is,” nodded Esmerelda, lost in contemplation. “I’ve never brewed it before, but I know what is needed. I could… I could try. I would need help, but with you…”

“Anything,” said Daniel. “I’ll help however I can.”

“Fine,” said Esmerelda promptly, sitting up in the sand as if that decided everything. “I’ll need your blood.”

Daniel’s eyes widened. He didn’t know much about magic potions or the magic of Mer, but he was pretty sure that giving anyone his blood was a bad idea. “For… the Funny Potion?”

 _“Foní,”_ Esmerelda corrected cooly, before nodding. “Yes. That's what I mean. Just a bit -- a small amount of pain, compared to the fate your friends face.”

Daniel swallowed. He could see the truth in her words, but remained unable to smother his anxiety. “I don’t know a thing about potions.”

“You don’t have to,” replied Esmerelda, already sifting through the layers of beads and pearls adorning her neck. She paused for a moment, fingers selecting a very large pearl, before her lips pursed in satisfaction. She yanked it from her neck with a sharp tug. A cascade of smaller beads fell around her, but her attention was focused on the glowing gem in her hand. “I know how to do it. I just need your help with the parts I can’t do.”

“What parts are those?” Daniel knew enough to be cautious. This plan seemed dubious at best, and Esmerelda’s enthusiasm took him aback; but if it could help Hale, he was willing to try anything.

Esmerelda laid out the outline of the potion for him in the sand, fingers tracing images and symbols that were easier for Daniel to make sense of than her rapid-fire explanations. The ingredients required for the potion were sketched in clumsy, hasty detail: an eclipse pearl, deep water seaweed, a mixture of salt water and fresh water, powdered coral, hair from a kelpie, five raw moonstones, and finally a sample of blood from a willing human.

“These things are next to impossible for me to find,” she explained. “Which is why I trust that you’ll know where they are.”

“The market in my village has things like powdered coral and fresh water. Maybe moonstones.” Daniel had never heard of deep water seaweed or kelpie hair; he assumed Esmerelda had a clue with those ingredients. The thin smile that spread across her face told him he wasn’t far off.

He was reasonably skeptical of any potion that involved blood. If it could help Hale, however, he didn’t see what other choice he had. He would do whatever he could for his best friend, even if it cost him a great deal.

Esmerelda was right. What was a little blood in exchange for his friend’s life?

Esmerelda held up the pearl, which glistened in the sunlight. This was the eclipse pearl; the first piece of the puzzle was already in their hands. Daniel heaved a sigh of relief at the realization. No matter how daunting a task this appeared, he was certain they could manage it.

They had to. He was going to save Hale, and he was going to bring the rest of his crewmates home. If he didn’t do that, Daniel could never face his village -- or himself -- again.


	6. Desperate Measures

The sun was sinking low in the sky by the time they set out. Daniel’s entire body ached. Pain embedded into his limbs, turning his blood thick and his joints unpliable. Every action sent a dull shockwave thrumming through his bones, to the point that forcing himself back into the water was a struggle.

“I'm tired,” he muttered, almost surprised at himself. “I'm  _ spent _ .”

“You almost drowned, nearly got captured by sirens, then almost drowned again.” If he'd been expecting sympathy, or even understanding, he didn't get it. Esmerelda crinkled her nose, frowning. “Humans are weak.”

In lieu of replying, Daniel bared his teeth and hauled himself to his feet. A lifetime growing up along the coast had made him  _ anything _ but weak. A low hum signaled the mermaid’s approval as he waded into the water to join her.

He rolled his shoulders, squinting against the bright glare of the sun. It had to still be early afternoon; the sky was bright and glowing, not a cloud in the sky. Of the fierce storms that almost served as his undoing last night, there was no sign.

“So, when do you want to go? When is the best time to raid a cave for seaweed?”

Esmerelda’s eyes flashed. “There is no  _ best time _ ,” she replied. “Either the serpents get you, or a cave-in does. Either way — the last place you want to be caught is a deepsea cave.”

“Reassuring. How far will we have to swim?”

Esmerelda stared at him for a long time; Daniel was seized by the sinking impression that he just asked a very stupid question.

“The only place to find deepwater seaweed is in the caves along the Southern coast — far down, in the dark, where the water is thick as oil, wraps its tendrils around your neck and chokes you,” she said with a certain relish. “ _ I’m  _ swimming. You’re just the dead weight I have to drag along behind me.”

Were her attitude more pleasant, this adventure would be a whole lot easier. “I do my best. Have you got any other ideas?” When his question was met with no reply, Daniel rolled his eyes. A muscle in his jaw throbbed.  “It isn’t like we can just get on a horse and ride there.”

Quick as a snap of lightning, Esmerelda rounded back towards him. Her bright eyes shone, mouth twisted into what could almost be called a smile. It forced icewater into Daniel’s veins, chilling and unnerving him in a single blow.

“ _ Riding _ ,” Esmerelda drawled. “Now,  _ there’s  _ an idea.”

  
  


Horses were a myth in Coastal villages, more word-of-mouth than an accepted reality. Of course, they existed -- who but horses could plow the rural farmland, drive wagons, and carry the Queen’s carriage through the streets of her own city? Many of the wealthier merchants had even encountered horses themselves on their travels, though they had no reason to bring one back with them. 

There was no question that horses were real. Daniel simply had never seen one before.

Sea horses -- now, he was a bit more familiar with those.

Sure, he could never ride one, or even get close to one -- but he’d seen them poke their heads above the waves, on the rare occasions they ventured close enough to shore. Spotting one was considered a great achievement by all children in the village, one they’d brag about for months if given the chance. 

The average Hippocampus travelled in a pack; they were very family-oriented and sociable by nature, so it was rare to find one alone. Normally, humans were not able to get close enough to them, because they were so fiercely protective of their kin. He learned all of this in school, but facts gave little life to the creatures themselves.

Daniel’s grandmother was far more adept at twisting the ocean mist into legends — of bold creatures with sleek manes, and tails that were their own forces of nature. As a child, Daniel was taken by the idea of somehow riding these steeds through the waves, fearless and bold, charging off to some great adventure.

He never thought he’d actually get the chance.

It took Esmerelda very little effort to lure a hippocampus away from its pack — apparently, creatures of the sea all speak the same language, more or less. He would have been impressed by the skill with which she guided the hippocampus towards shallower waters, were he not… well, a little distracted.

“Amazing,” Daniel breathed, unable to tear his eyes away from the powerful seahorse.

The creature was lean and strong, its mane a dark aquamarine, coat a much smoother beryl. Every movement caused flesh to ripple over tight muscles; strength emphasized the horse’s every movement. Its wide, heaving flanks veered down to end in a powerful tail that sluiced through the water without much effort. Long tendrils, distinct from hair, flowed behind it with every movement. Its silver eyes remained fixed on Daniel, sharp and intelligent.

He took a hesitant breath, itching to reach out, but too hesitant to try.

“She’s very friendly,” Esmerelda assured him, beckoning him closer. Her tight grip on his hand prevented him from refusing; if he pulled away, the spell that enabled him to exist this deep below the waves would weaken. He trembled with anticipation, but did not fight her.

“Wh-  what’s her name?”

Esmerelda listened to the horse a moment, eyes closed. She smiled to herself. “Korasai.”

He echoed the word to himself, caressing every syllable. How must the language of the hippocampi -- not even verbal, comprehensive only to seaborn ears -- differ from his native tongue? How clumsy and awkward must his hard-edged Jaolish sound to Esmerelda, used to the sleek hiss of her own words, or this creature, who didn’t need words at all? At once self-conscious, Daniel ducked his head and pulled his hand away.

The horse let out a snort. Esmerelda’s eyes sparked. “She thinks you don’t like her.”

“No, I -- no! That’s not it at all.”

He regarded the hippocampus with wide eyes, imploring her to understand. Her eyes searched his. They seemed to delve deeper with every second, past every barrier or defense he could employ; she explored his soul. After a long moment (through which Daniel did not dare to speak, or even to breathe), the horse bowed her head.

“She likes you,” Esmerelda proclaimed. “Says you’ve got a gentle heart. You’d better be nice to her.”

“Of course.” Anything else did not bear even thinking about. He regarded the horse with wide eyes, unsure what to do. A nudge from Esmerelda urged him forward.

Tentatively, he slipped onto the horse’s back. She breathed and trembled beneath him, a living thing, and the sensation was so strange that he nearly slid off again. Only Esmerelda’s snort, and the dread of disgracing himself in front of this dignified creature, kept him steady.

The sense of the magic settling over Daniel was startling. It was like a ripple of the tide running across his entire body, cooling his outsides and numbing his insides. There was something electric about Mer magic, like the air during an explosive storm; Hippocampi magic was like a light blanket, enveloping Daniel and assuring him of his safety even in such unfamiliar territory.

“Hello there.” He ran his fingers through the tendrils of her mane. The horse  ---  Korasai  ---  let out a soft bray.

Daniel spared a moment to ground himself  ---  in the sensation of a powerful animal carrying him, the water around him, the fact that as long as he clung to Korasai he had no need for air. Once it had all settled in, he exhaled a rush of bubbles, releasing the last breath locked in his chest, and looked up at Esmerelda.

“Alright,” he declared. “Let’s go.”

  
  


“The seaweed should be obtained first,” Esmerelda told him as they swam, not bothering to look over her shoulder to ensure Daniel, on his hippocampi companion, was following. “It needs to be plucked by hand. Then it’s supposed to be mashed into paste to suit the potion. We don’t have to worry about that until the blue moon -- for now, let’s just get what we need.”

The waters grew thick with shadows as night set in. Every warning Daniel had ever heard about not swimming after dark echoed in his head, chasing circles around each other. He could hear the disapproving voice of his mother calling him the further he got from shore; he recognized his old teacher’s voice, preaching of the dangers of the waves at night. He trusted Korasai to keep him safe, but he knew better than to trust the waters themselves.

To force away his own anxieties, he turned to talking — though Esmerelda made it clear that she wasn’t the chattiest companion. “Can I ask you something?”

“Depends. Is it a stupid question?”

“Maybe,” Daniel replied, and carried on undeterred. “You’ve done this before, right? This potion thing.”

It took a moment for Esmerelda’s halting answer to come. “I have made potions before.”

“But  _ this  _ potion. Specifically this one. You know what you’re doing, right?”

Another breadth of silence passed between them, longer than the last. It did nothing to settle Daniel’s nerves. He gripped Korasai a little tighter, urging her on as Esmerelda’s pace grew more aggressive.

“Not this one,” she finally replied. “But I learned from the best.”

Daniel couldn’t help asking. “Who is the best?”

The fact that Esmerelda’s speed never faltered was impressive, considering the glare she shot over her shoulder held all the venom of a cove viper. Daniel’s first instinct was to shrink away, but slipping off the back of Korasai seemed like an even worse fate.

“Why do you bother asking if you’ll have no idea who I’m talking about?”

Daniel sighed through his teeth. “It’s called  _ making conversation. _ Being nice.  _ Try  _ it.”

“Plenty of time for that when I’m dead,” Esmerelda snarled. “Which looks like it’ll be pretty soon.”

At some point, a person just has to know when to give up. Daniel rolled his eyes, slinking back to swim in Esmerelda’s wake. Arguing did a grand total of nothing to ease his frayed nerves, and there was no point making an enemy of his only other traveling companion. He  _ liked  _ to consider himself a nice person, no matter how much animosity other people might hold. This did not make him naive. Just because someone was a live grenade didn’t mean he had to play with the pin.

The silence hung between them, Daniel no longer motivated to try and breach it. He had no desire to get snapped at again. Avoiding conversation seemed like the best way not to push Esmerelda’s buttons.

He was surprised when, after a few moments, she spoke again. “Her name was Eumelia. She knew more about magic than anyone I’ve ever met. Ancient sea magic, mostly. She knew things most witches have never heard of.” There was a hint of sadness in her voice that spoke of love and grief in equal measure. She smiled to herself, small, wistful. “She was my pod leader. And my sister.”

Daniel was startled. “I didn’t know you —“

“I don’t anymore.” Her voice was hard again, miles away from him. “I have no sisters.”

Daniel considered this. It sounded like a hornet's nest. Sticking his head in would get him stung, many times, and probably killed.

“Okay, do you wanna talk abo—“

_ “No!”  _ Esmerelda snapped, and powered away with such force that Daniel and Korasai were abandoned in a wake of bubbles.

Well, it was worth a try.

  
  


At some point, once the waters had begun to darken around them, Korasai would go no further. She lingered in the last vestiges of light as Daniel slipped off her back. Esmerelda seized hold of his wrist, and they continued together into the abyss.

Thousands of feet below the surface, the water was frigid and pitch black. No light could penetrate this far down. Even with the protection of Mer magic, ice steadily crept into Daniel’s veins, chilling him from the inside out. There was no breath in his lungs; if there was, his teeth would be chattering like a frightened clam.

Everything about this place was eerie and impossible. It felt like a violation, to intrude into a world that did not belong to them with the intention of taking something from it.

Even Esmerelda seemed unnerved by the pitch-black water. Her nails dug into Daniel’s skin until he was sure they were drawing blood. Each movement of her tail felt intently-controlled, a twitch off from wild. Her presence offered no comfort. Rather, it made the sense of danger lurking around the corner all the more omnipresent. Each hammer of Daniel’s heart in his chest left him more certain that the next beat would be stolen by an unseen peril.

Here, in the dark and cold, with the entire world reduced to the few inches in front of you… with the tendrils of shadow which curled around your swaying limbs like snake-skin… with the frigid waters, foreign to the kiss of sunlight or mercy… yes, this was the perfect place for monsters.

“Stay with me,” Esmerelda coached, leading him along. “Don’t get lost.”

Daniel had no desire to be swallowed up by the abyss. He stuck by her side.

He had assumed Esmerelda knew the way, but it became obvious that even she was out of her depth in this merciless breadth of water. They could not stop to look around, because stopping would surely mean being swallowed up by what they could not see. Instead, they swam forward without guidance, only trusting their instincts would lead them in the right direction.

Abruptly, Esmerelda stopped. Daniel almost jerked past her; he caught his balance and turned, following her gaze down. Below them, the narrow opening of a cave gaped, like a slit-lipped mouth ready to close on them both. The mere sight of it sent a shudder through his veins, but Esmerelda was steadier.

“This is it,” she declared; then, glancing back at Daniel, “hold your breath.”

He had no breath to hold, but no time to tell her this. In a second, she pulled away…  and vanished into the dark opening, immediately engulfed by darkness. Panic seized Daniel like a vice, but he forced it down. Nothing good would come of losing his head so far down beneath the sea.

The absence of Esmerelda’s magic was not felt immediately, but crept on slowly, as it head before. A weight began to build in his head and limbs; too long in Esmerelda’s absence, and the pressure of the water would surely kill him. Daniel gripped the edge of the cave’s opening with both hands, bracing his knees on rock and peering down into the black. He could see nothing  ---  no seaweed, no Esmerelda, no life within.

When he opened his mouth, his own voice was faint, muffled by the water.  “Esmerelda?”

A flicker of pale skin, and there she was  ---  Esmerelda, working feverishly at a patch of weeds as long as her arm. They grew straight up from the sea floor, curling and tendrilling around her. As Daniel’s eyes adjusted to the absence of light, he could see that the entire cave was full of them  ---  weeds and weeds, like a nest, with Esmerelda right in the middle of it. They grew dark, like inky strainds of hair, and clung to her limbs wherever they brushed against her.

She cast a single glance up at him, and continued to pull. A distant hum echoed in Daniel’s ears, but they were aching too much to register it fully.

No sense rushing her, of course, but time was not on their side. Esmerelda worked with urgency. All the while, her magic dimmed and faded, leaving Daniel dizzy with pressure. The din in his ears grew louder; a dull ache bloomed in his chest. Any longer, and he was a dead man. 

“Come on!” he hissed, and Esmerelda shot a fierce look up at him. She jerked on the weeds. At once, the humming reached a fever-pitch.

“W- what’s that?”

There was no way to ignore it anymore. The low vibration has reached a sudden fever pitch, causing the water around them to vibrate with its frequency. Water rushed past him, around him, over him; the frequency rolled like a tidal wave. Daniel could not discern a source, but the panic brought with it was obvious. His stomach took a sudden dip. Fear locked around his throat like a vice.

Something was wrong. Something was very,  _ very  _ wrong.

“Esmerelda!” He pounded on the rock with his fists, frantic. “Esmerelda, come on, let’s go!”

Even the cavern was exposed to the racket now; there was no way Esmerelda could ignore it. Her hands still full of seaweed, she cast a wide-eyed gaze up at Daniel. Her expression swelled Daniel’s alarm to a fever pitch. What could be capable of  _ terrifying  _ Esmerelda?

His answer came. Without so much as a clatter to announce it, the bottom of the cavern collapsed in on itself. Esmerelda emitted a high, shrill noise of panic. A few flicks of her powerful tail sent her shooting up to the rocky opening above, but she was not quick enough. The walls shifted, a great rumble of stone, and began to close around her. Her arms stretched out, desperate for the lifeline of the narrow opening, growing narrower with each second. She just managed to get one hand free when she was suddenly jerked back down.

“Esmerelda!” Daniel hollered again, snatching her hand before it could disappear. “Hold on!”

Around him, the mouth of the cave was shifting  ---  as if, in some awful way, it was sucking them in. The thought jolted him into awful awareness. With half his body in the cave, he was now conscious of  the walls pulsing, rippling... as if they were breathing.

The opening was a mouth…  and the cavern was a stomach.

Sudden horror loosened his grip on Esmerelda’s hands. She slipped, perilously, and dig her nails into Daniel’s palm. Sharp teeth bared themselves in a fruitless attempt at self-defense; her mouth was parted in a spineless scream. She kicked and thrashed like a madwoman at the weeds twined around her tail, pulling her down no matter how she fought upwards. 

There was nothing gentle in it, nothing merciful. These were the death throes of a small creature, trapped in the maw of an ancient beast. All of Esmerelda’s fight was not enough.

The mouth shifted, pulling right around Daniel’s waist. He was the only thing preventing the cave from swallowing Esmerelda’s up… and if he wasn’t careful, he’d be sucked in right along with her.

They were both helpless. No time to hesitate, to think — and certainly no option of letting go. Daniel gripped Esmerelda tighter, gazing down into eyes wide and wild with terror. Something, he had to do something — anything!

Like a burst of lightning, his mind flashed back to a similarly desperate situation — trapped in the roiling bowels of a storm, with Hale at his side, panicking as they tried to untangle the twisted lines forcing the sails to remain up. They were trapped, waging war against the elements and rope far stronger than they, with no hope of saving themselves… until Daniel seized hold of his pocket knife.

The tendrils gripping Esmerelda’s waist now looked  _ awfully similar  _ to rigging, and there was a familiar weight in his pocket.

Quick as a flash, Daniel’s free hand shot to his pocket and emerged with the knife. Even this deep beneath the waves, it still opened smoothly; the blade shone in the near-nonexistent light. Esmerelda’s mouth parted wide once more at the sight, and she thrashed harder — not towards the surface, but  _ away _ . Away from Daniel.

Were there time to reassure her, he would try — but their perilous situation and his racing heart just didn’t allow it. Daniel heaved her up with all his strength, forcing the weeds taut with determination to keep hold of their prey. 

With one quick slash, he severed Esmerelda’s binds —- and they were free.

Esmerelda did not spare a moment. She shot towards the surface like an arrowhead, arms stretched straight out in front of her; her lean form forced its way through the narrow opening to emerge in lighter waters. Daniel could only scramble to follow, nearly panicking in the absence of her guiding hand; but he made it up and out. In a second, Esmerelda found him again.

“Go, we have to go,” she exclaimed, propelling them off with a powerful kick of her tail. Daniel did not even have time to catch his nonexistent breath.

“But — wait —“ He scrambled for his bearings, for control over the adrenaline still driving him. All his instincts were screaming to flee, but something more deeply-ingrained had to protest. He tightened his grip on his wrist, as if he had any hope of slowing her. “The seaweed!”

Esmerelda cast a sharp glance back at him. That was when he noticed her clenched fist, held tightly to her chest… and the handful of dark weeds clutched tight within, still bearing the clean cuts of his pocket knife.

Without another protest, the two raced up, back into gentler waters.


	7. Shipwreck’s Gold

They both stumbled onto dry land hours later, bruised and exhausted. The trauma of their ordeal was yet to set in, but getting there fast. Korasai the hippocampus had to carry not just Daniel, but Esmerelda too, the last extra mile to shore. By the time they reached it, there seemed nothing to do but recover.

Daniel collapsed on his back, legs free of the punishment of holding him up. He squeezed his eyes shut and breathed, hands digging into the wet sand. It feels cool beneath his fingers, giving way like silt instead of solid ground.

He did not look up until Esmerelda’s quiet voice summoned him from the brink of exhaustion. 

“You saved me." 

Her voice was very flat, and very small. In the aftermath of reaching land, she’d curled up with her tail folded, arms wrapped around as if it were knees. She remained very still — not bending, not breaking, _glowering_ at the array of salmon-colored scales in front of her. 

“I did,” replied Daniel, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. It kind of was — they were both there, weren’t they? 

Esmerelda lifted her head at last, turning to look at him. Her hard expression was betrayed by the genuine confusion shining in her eyes. “Why did you do that?”

It baffled Daniel that he might need a reason. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“You didn’t have to risk your life for me.”

“And you didn’t have to rescue me from the sirens.” He regarded Esmerelda seriously for a long moment, every word laden with sincerity. The tension only broke when his lips quirked up. “Now we’re even.”

Esmerelda stared back at him, as if not quite sure what to say. Then, like a miracle, the smallest smile appeared on her lips as well.

“Not quite. I saved your life two times.”

“Fine,” Daniel huffed. “I’ve got some catching up to do.”

Esmerelda laughed — a scratchy, genuine laugh, from a throat that sounded unused to it, as if she had not laughed in far too long and nearly forgotten how. Her shoulders slumped back. Daniel sighed. They both settled back down in the sand, cradled by exhaustion and relief. Neither of them moved for a long while.

* * *

Esmerelda seemed to be under the baffling impression that if she sat out in the sun for long enough, her tail would turn into legs. 

Not that Daniel _doubted_ her, persay — because he knew very little about Mer magic, while his companion was the resident expert. It just seemed… very convenient, and more than a little biologically improbable. ( _Impossible_ was a better word, but if the past twenty-four hours had taught him anything, it was that nothing was impossible, and things could always get worse.) 

Esmerelda’s tail was very solid, after all, and didn’t seem to be going anywhere soon. She stretched it out in the sand, arching luxuriously, and Daniel could not help but be fascinated by the way light reflected against her salmon-toned scales. The longer he regarded Esmerelda’s lower half, the more amazed he grew — through the drama of rescue missions and desperate escapes, it was easy to forget he was traveling with a real-life mermaid. 

“You stare too much,” Esmerelda said bluntly, then nudged him in the chest. “Fan me. Help me dry off.” 

Baffled, Daniel could see little reason not to do as he was told. Much as he doubted Esmerelda’s plan, neither of them were in a mood to argue… so he began to fan her, waving his hands until a faint breeze whipped the air around them. Esmerelda sighed in content, dipping her head back in the sand and making a glorious mess of her already-frightful hair. 

Sure enough, after a few moments, the tail no longer looked quite as it did before. As Esmerelda dried out, her scales lost their lustre, beginning to fade into salmon-toned skin. Even that lightened, growing a deeper color, like sunburn over tanned skin. Esmerelda ran a hand from the base of her tail all the way down, and when she pulled away, her single limb was split into two: a twin pair of legs slowly forming, like clay being melded together. It was not disgusting to watch, merely fascinating — like watching infant animals in their first moments of life, after all the gore has been cleaned away. Daniel sat, gape-mouthed, as the Mer in front of him gradually transformed into anything but. 

Once the process was drawn to its conclusion, Esmerelda twisted to face him and proudly wriggled her toes. “Well? I told you so.” 

“You did,” was all Daniel could reply, baffled beyond comprehension. Esmerelda hadn’t been lying; when she said she could follow him on land, she meant that she could literally grow legs.

“You… look disturbed.”

“I think I am,” Daniel said, feeling a little faint. “You… can change back, right?”

“As soon as I immerse myself in the ocean again.” Esmerelda had both feet buried in the sand, gleefully kicking up clumps of it. “Hello again, tail. But for now…”

She turned to Daniel with a broad, reckless grin that left him wondering if he hadn’t made a terrible mistake pulling her out of the surf in the first place.

“Let’s brew ourselves a potion.”

* * *

Esmerelda was very practical, in the most impractical way a person could be... so, Daniel supposed, she checked all the boxes. Whatever he expected a mermaid would be like on land, Esmerelda was exactly that. She was also nothing like he imagined at all.  
  
“I can’t wear shoes,” she said frankly. “I won’t be able to walk.”  
  
“People walk just fine wearing them,” he replied, while stubbornly continuing to stare straight ahead — as if there was _nothing unusual_ about strolling through the market with a ragged, scantily-clothed girl who reeked of sea salt. Esmeralda’s hair was a tangled mess, still with bits of seaweed trapped in its tendrils; she kept dragging her bare feet against the cobblestone street to relish the texture. When someone brushed against her, or got too close, or stared at her too long, she looked ready to bite them.  
  
“Not me,” she replied, kicking her heels experimentally. She nearly fell headfirst over a barrel of cod oil. “I’m not used to them. They’d give me blisters, and I wouldn’t be able to walk, and there goes your chance of saving your friends.”  
  
“So, bottom line: no shoes.”  
  
“Exactly.”  
  
This victory was nothing but a delight to the one who reaped the benefits. Meanwhile, Daniel was still leading a wild shoeless girl through the market square.  
  
Coastal towns were liberal  —  but even there, this was not how things were done. He could not speak for _this_ unfamiliar village, but almost every village along the rocky cliffs and beaches of Nephthys adhered to the same social order: the strict code of conduct which dictated how a person ought to behave. Status quo was the fabric of Coastal society, as much as the sea breeze which carried on the air, and the salt which flowed through every man or woman’s veins.  
  
Wealthy merchants were dignified and proud, the pinnacle of education in the finer arts; they were bohemians, who enjoyed the luxuries of travel to far-off places (even, perhaps, the capitol city itself). Meanwhile, fishermen were humble masters of the seaside, who raised their children to follow in their trade. _This_ was the background Daniel hailed from... the one Hale was so desperate to leave behind.  
  
(Who could blame him? He was born to become a seafarer, not an artist... but when something is in your blood, there is no escaping it.)

Outcasts did not adhere to this, or any, social order. They were dangerous. As he and Esmerelda strolled through the bustling market square, crowded with bodies draped in colorful robes and jewelry, he was conscious of gazes following them. Suspicion surrounded them like a cloud, urging others to give them a wide berth. They had no problem maneuvering around the multitude of carts and stalls, selling their wares for the day… but if they tried to buy anything, it’s unlikely anyone would sell.

Daniel was more conscious than ever of his torn shorts and worn white shirt… still a little damp, carrying the musk of seawater and sand. Uncombed hair clung to his salt-dried temples, and his hands were lined with scrapes. Never before had he so needed a shower. He was as much a spectacle as Esmerelda — two oddities, who looked as if they’d just crawled from the sea.

“We need to find new clothes,” he muttered, drawing closer to Esmerelda, “or they’ll chase us out of town with spears.”

“Does that happen here?” Esmerelda asked, a note of alarm in her voice.

“On occasion.” Daniel shrugged. “Depends on the town. I’ve heard of people using swordfish. Do you see any clothing stalls around here?"

In retrospect, asking Esmerelda was silly. She had no clue what a clothing store was; she’d probably never worn clothes before. Still unsteady on her feet, getting used to supporting the weight of her new body, she could barely keep the clothing she had — an old tablecloth Daniel snatched from an unfortunate stranger’s laundry line, and tied like a toga around her — from slipping off. 

Plus, she was a little distracted. A Coastal marketplace was overwhelming, especially for someone who never visited one before. Esmerelda’s wide eyes roved everywhere, taking in everything at once — merchants hawking jewelry and fabrics in a every color on the spectrum; vendors standing beside piles of ripe fruit, salted meats and fresh-caught fish; an old man wheeling a cart of hand-made toys. Her breath caught at the sight of dolls, with  their curled hair and glassy eyes; a few of them had tails, miniature mermaids for eager young girls to treasure. She almost reached out to snatch a golden bangle off the counter of a stall crowded with them. Only Daniel’s quick reflexes, and firm grip on her wrist, kept her from wandering into the crowd. 

At last, they found what they were searching for. The caravan was old, a little run-down, not flashy compared to many of the silk and fabric vendors lining the square… but it had clean pants and light dresses, exactly what they needed to look respectable.

Daniel breezed through the clothing racks, selecting several new shirts and a nice pair of pants. With Esmerelda distracted with a shelf of hats, he took the liberty of dressing her as well. A flowing sleeveless gown, cream fabric embroidered with coral flowers, stood out to him; he pulled it off the shelf, adding another more subdued orange dress as an afterthought. 

“Esmerelda!” he called, holding the two gowns up. The Mer in question spun around, a floppy, seashell-accented sunhat on her head. 

“Yes,” she said, waving a hand at him. Her eyes were fixed on some impressive sunglasses just over Daniel’s shoulder. “Okay. Absolutely.” 

“Do you like them?” he demanded. 

“Why not?” Esmerelda replied, and greedily snatched up another hat.

By the time Daniel made it to the counter, his companion’s enthusiasm had driven all other customers away from the stall. He did not have long to wait… but the stall’s proprietor was certainly not happy to see him.

“Good afternoon,” Daniel tried, and squirmed in the silent seconds that followed. “May the gods be with you. Could I — umm, could I please have those—“

The vendor cut him off by naming a price which left Daniel’s head spinning.

“I — oh.” The village of his birth was small and simple, full of sailors and tradesmen. This village, however, was more sophisticated. It had its own marketplace… and, apparently, the currency to go with it.

Daniel had never paid for anything with real money before. In a village where everyone knew everyone, the barter system was enough. He’d traded many fresh catches for groceries, and even a few chickens to the local carpenter… but never had he paid a single Jule, to anyone, for anything. He was to earn his first bounty at the end of his first voyage… a plan which now held far less water than the ship he’d gone down in. 

Daniel had no money to speak of… and without money, they could have no clothes, no place to stay for the night, and be unable to buy supplies for the potion. 

How could he have been so foolish? 

“Well?” The shopkeeper’s irritation swelled with each second, leaving Daniel to flounder. “Do you have money, or are oh wasting my time?”

“I, ah — well, I hoped I could — run errands for you, or, or —“ Daniel cut himself off, nearly swallowing his tongue. The hard glare of the shopkeeper was shrinking him, and as he grew smaller and smaller, the world around him towered last the point of comprehension. Anxiety drew his throat tight and choked, making it impossible to force another word out. His hands bunches into terse fists, jagged nails digging into his palms.

Without warning, the clatter of something stop the counter forced both Daniel and the shopkeeper to jump. Esmerelda didn’t flinch; her hand hovered inches above what she dropped, brows arching as she regarded the salesman.

“We have no money,” she said bluntly, “but that is gold. Pure gold.” Her wrist twitched, and Daniel was startled to see one of the gold bangles — the bracelet which held her sleeve of pearls in place all along her forearm — now lay on the counter. It glinted in the midday sunlight, casting an awed hush over the shopkeeper as he held it up. “ _Shipwreck’s_ gold,” Esmerelda declared, pure satisfaction in her tone.

The man’s eyes shot to her, suspicion warring with incredulity. “How did you get it?” was the first thing out of his mouth; closely followed by, “how do you know it’s shipwreck’s gold?”

No soul in a Coastal city would dare trifle with the reputation of shipwreck’s gold. It was the most valuable commodity throughout all of Nephthys— riches pilfered from a shipwreck. _Dead man’s bounty,_ in a way, but it’s near loss made the value all the greater. The greatest Coastal cities had professional appraisers who made a career in tracing gold and valuables back to wrecks of the past.

“I know for sure,” Esmerelda replied, lips curving up in a serene smirk, “because I took it from a wreck myself. The _ISS Myantic_. If you don’t remember her loss, I’m sure others will.”

The shopkeeper clutched the bangle in his hands like newfound fortune — after all, it was. A mermaid had free rein of any bounty which fell into the deep, so the loss perhaps meant little to Esmerelda; at least, she didn’t seem troubled parting with the bracelet. To any landfarer, however, it was precious wealth.

“Thank you, Lady,” the shopkeeper muttered, drawing the payment close to his chest. A greedy golden light shone in his eyes. “Take what you want. All you want!”

Esmerelda smiled in satisfaction, fixed her new hat over the mess of her hair, turned on her heel, and stride out of the shop.

Daniel was left behind to awkwardly pull the armload of clothing off the counter, nodding amiably at the man as he did so. “Right. Okay. Have a nice day, sir.”

“Shipwreck’s gold,” was all the shopkeeper could mutter, still gazing at it in awe. “Imagine that. _Real_ shipwreck’s gold…”


	8. The Truth About Lies

The next time Daniel ventured anywhere that would require money, he’d have to bring a mermaid along.

Esmerelda had a swagger when she stepped up to a stall or salesman, a dauntless confidence emphasized by her proud bearing and somewhat-feral appearance. She also wore an entire fortune’s worth of gold around her wrists… and this, more than anything, brought them exactly where they wanted to be.

The pleasant merchant town of Corgarra was a far cry from the tiny village where Daniel was raised… but it was not large. Its shops were provincial, its streets were well-tread, and every merchant knew the man selling next to him. Its finest inn was a blue-bricked residence, three floors tall, with a slanting roof and one cozy little balcony hitting out from the  highest room. This was not one of the luxury resorts of urban cities, which brought room service to your door and fresh sheets every morning. Corgarra’s only inn was, put simply, a place to stay — charming, but small, quaint, and unimpressive to anyone who had not spent the previous night sleeping in a cave.

To Daniel, the inn was paradise.

All he hoped for was a room. Esmerelda passed over her second bracelet, and they were handed the keys to the top room — the Imperial Suite. (It was named so, not because anyone royal or remotely noble had ever stayed there, but to impress the people such a large room was designed for — wealthy city-dwellers, just passing along the Coast, who could afford it.)

Daniel stumbled through the doorway to be met with the finest room he’d ever stood in. Painted-gold stucco lined the walls, over gold-emblazoned wallpaper. The desks and tables were polished mahogany. The lamps had shades, and extra candles in the drawer in case the first burnt out. There was indoor plumbing, a bathtub,  _ and _ a shower.

He may have cried, a little.

His first move, of course — before the door had even closed behind Esmerelda — was to claim the shower for himself. She had no problem with this. So, as his companion investigated the extent of human luxury, Daniel explored the extent of their cleanliness; what sort of hotel had multiple kinds of soaps? In different colors, and scents? He lathered his body, soothing each aching muscle under hot water, breathing steam into his water-sore lungs. Any dirt, any grime, any salt — all of it was scrubbed from his body without mercy. Watching it go down the drain was a pleasure.

Trading his coat of filth, for a fluffy white bathrobe, Daniel emerged to find Esmerelda intently trying to figure out what a bed was.

“It’s funny,” Esmerelda remarked, inspecting the bed with the critical eye of an art-critic, or a person who didn’t particularly trust beds. “I wasn’t going to take the gold. There were some nice vertebrae down there that would have made a lovely necklace.”

Daniel had no clue how to  _ start _ unpacking that. “Well,” he replied, cheerfully throwing the cheerfully-bright curtains— sky blue, decorated with tiny seashells, of course— open to take in the night air. “I’m glad you chose wealth over sentimentality.”

“I’m never sentimental.” Esmerelda flopped down hard on the mattress — and immediately bounced back up again, as if recoiling off a tarpaulin. Her face lit up; she threw herself back once more with reckless abandon, and the ensuing bounce nearly sent her into the wall.

“Will you stop that? You’ll break the mattress.”

“That’s what it’s called!” Glee still shone in her eyes as she spun around, flopping onto her stomach with arms outstretched. “No wonder you humans are so slow and lazy. You sleep all night long in spongy things like these.”

Daniel saw no need to remark that this was an  _ especially good  _ mattress, made for people who would never tolerate the tiny camp bed he treasured at home, crammed into the tiny bedroom he and his thirteen year old brother, Gregry, shared. Daniel was used to sleeping on rocks instead of clouds… but after a night and a day taking this metaphor literally, he was more than happy to welcome a soft bed. The softest bed, in fact, that he’d ever  _ seen _ .

Sure, he’d have to share it with Esmerelda — and chances were, she kicked, or  _ worse _ — but he could live with that. Anything for one night of decent rest.

“You don’t need to insult anyone,” he replied, peering out onto the pleasant little balcony, facing the ocean, looking down upon the town below. “Humans have made a lot more than that.”

“I’ll insult humans all I want,” Esmerelda asserted. “Just like I’ll insult you.”

An unnecessary jab — and, in Daniel’s opinion, undeserved. He spun around to face her, frown setting deeper upon his face as he took in her long-limbed form sprawled across the bed. She still hadn’t showered; she had seaweed tangled in her hair.

Oh, all the insults he could think of… and she made it  _ so easy. _

“Right,” Daniel replied instead, turning to the table in the corner of the room — the table on which their mission’s progress had been laid out, in a neat row of succession. There sat the glimmering Eclipse pearl, next to a handful of wilting seaweed; alongside that, the small vial of powdered coral, purchased in the marketplace just hours ago; beside that, a crystal glass, full to the brim with fresh spring water — compliments of the inn itself.

They could not create the potion  _ yet _ , but they were getting closer. Daniel ticked off another box on his mental checklist. Only kelpie hair and raw moonstones left.

And the blood. Of course. He couldn’t forget about the blood.

Then, however, the potion would be complete. Then they could brew it, bring it to the siren cave, and save Hale  -- save everyone. They had two days and three ingredients left before the blue moon… they could do it.

They had to do it.

He dressed with care, unused to wearing clothes so new that the fabric felt foreign against his skin; it seemed almost as if he’d slipped into a brand new body entirely, no longer Daniel Redihess, but someone foreign and unfamiliar. Someone who was not out of place in a fancy inn, wearing silk shirts and dining on clams and crabs with an honest-to-gods mermaid.

(One consolation was left to him: Esmerelda may have looked like a human, but she still  _ ate  _ like a sea creature. When she left the table, discarded shells crunched beneath her feet, and juice stained the front of her new dress.)

By the time Daniel slid into bed that night, he was nearly used to it all. At the very least, he didn’t feel like an impostor. That nagging paranoia that in seconds the hotel concierge would come knocking on the door, demanding they leave immediately, had faded away. He might be far from his home, displaced from anything familiar, but he could take comfort in the hope that soon  --- very soon --- everything would be back to the way it was.

He’d get Hale back, they’d go home…  and this entire adventure would seem like a bizzare nightmare.

“That’s another thing about humans,” Esmerelda remarked. “When you’re thinking hard about something, anyone can tell. You’re all too easy to read.”

Daniel turned to face the figure lying next to him, annoyance already curling his lips into a grimace  --- though in the dim evening light, he doubted she could see it. Esmerelda blinked back at him through the darkness, alert and wide-awake. A long day as tourists in an unfamiliar village was enough to wear out Daniel, but Mer apparently possessed more stamina.

At any rate, he found himself at his wits end. Daniel searched for patience, prayed for it, and still drew a regrettable blank.

“You know what,” he enunciated through gritted teeth. “I am tired. So, so tired.”

“Good,” said Esmerelda.

“Of you.”

“Excellent,” said Esmerelda.

It was no use. Daniel slammed his head back on the pillow, covered his face with both hands, and groaned. At his side, Esmerelda cackled like the witch who’d just caught children for supper. The sound rang in his ear; it took Daniel a second longer than it should have to realize she was laughing directly into his ear. When he swung at her, Esmerelda retreated, only to grin at him from the darkness.

“I saved your life, you know!” he snapped. “You could be a little less ---”

He could not continue the sentence, though Esmerelda waited eagerly. “ _ Less _ what? Don’t leave me in suspense.”

He refused to insult her; that was not the way Daniel’s mother had raised him, nor was he content exchanging blow-for-blow. If Esmerelda wanted to be needlessly cruel, it was her choice… but he would take the higher road if it killed him.

Heaving a sigh, Daniel pushed himself up in bed, facing her. “You could be less hateful. Ever since you shed your tail, all you’ve done is marvel at human stuff and preach how much you hate us all. Why do you hate so much, Esmerelda? What’s the point?”

For a long moment, Esmerelda was silent. Wide eyes blinked at Daniel in the darkness; her lips pursed, parted, then closed again. After a few terse seconds, she broke eye contact, frowning down at her pillow instead. 

“You hate sirens,” she finally said, “don’t you? You despise them with all your heart.”

There was no reason for her to ask. Sirens were the monsters in the dark; they were out to take what Daniel loved most in the world. They were hurting his best friend, they’d tried to kill him…  of course he hated sirens.

Esmerelda knew his answer without either of them needing to voice it. Her eyes raised, triumphant, vindicated in some incomprehensible way. “Then I’m allowed to hate humans.”

Their situations were different. Sirens tried to take everything from Daniel. What did humans ever do to Esmerelda?

“Fine. Why did you save me, then?”

Her eyes pulled away again, followed by the rest of her. Esmerelda huffed towards the ceiling, unwilling to entertain her companion for another moment. “I told you. I don’t know.”

“You didn’t have to.”

“You were right in front of me — right there in the water. What was I supposed to do, just let you drown?”

Daniel shrugged, unbothered by the notion. He knew how easy it would have been  --- far easier than him leaving Esmerelda to die in that cavernous stomach. Had she let him sink into the abyss with his ship, left him to the mercy of the sirens, she would have lost nothing. Instead, she chose to save him.

“You could have,” he replied, voice hollow in the gentle evening silence.

Esmerelda fell silent, and remained so for a long moment. When she finally spoke again, there was an unprecedented softness in her voice — not sympathy, not kindness, but external quiet to bely an internal storm.

“No,” she said. “No, I don’t think I could.”

She didn’t leave him to drown… and this, Daniel supposed, was all that mattered.

Neither of them spoke for a while after that. There was no reason to. Esmerelda was no longer inclined to complain, and Daniel had no stomach for fighting…  so they both remained still, drifting on the moonlight carrying through the light curtains, shrouded by silence.

Daniel could easily have fallen asleep then and there, after the exhaustion of the past few days  --- filled with ocean magic, deep-sea monsters, and more close-calls than he appreciated. Things were not as easy for Esmerelda. Perhaps the feeling of sheets around her legs set her on edge, or perhaps she just couldn’t sleep without the soft drone of ocean waves… because every time Daniel felt himself drifting off, his bedmate’s writhing jarred him to wakefulness again.

“Please,” he huffed. “Just… please. Sleep.”

“I can’t,” Esmerelda replied, petulant as a small child sent to bed without dessert. “It’s too…  quiet. I can’t stand it.”

“Well, what do you want me to do?”

Esmerelda was thoughtful for a long moment before she replied.  “Can you tell me a story?”

Delirium seemed more likely to have seized hold of Daniel’s brain. In the haze of exhaustion, he was surely making things up; he was drifting on dream rather than reality, imagining a familiar voice making a completely absurd request. This was the only thing which made sense… because surely Esmerelda couldn’t really want him to wake up, to tell her, of all things  ---

“A story? Are you kidding?”

Storytelling is a Coastal art, one Daniel has cultivated for himself through his own writing. That doesn’t mean he feels like telling one in the middle of the night.

“Yes!” Esmerelda retorted, not budging an inch. Then, in a softer voice, one a more ignorant person could easily mistake as humble, she added: “I think it would help. I don’t think I can sleep without it… so I’ll have to keep kicking all night long.”

Daniel wanted to sleep  --- and if Esmerelda made good on her threat, he’d never be able to.

_ By all the god of sea and sky, what have I done to deserve this? _

“Fine,” he sighed, pillowing his head on his hands. It took him less than a moment to come up with a suitable story; by then, Esmerelda was staring intently at him, sharp green eyes luminous in the darkness. He took a moment to shudder at the surreal effect before clearing his throat, and starting in on a familiar tale.

“Once upon a time, there were two young boys who lived on the very edge of a great kingdom, where the rocky cliffs and beaches met the sea. These boys were best friends, and spent their days exploring the caves which lined the coast around their village. One day —“

“This is a story about you,” Esmerelda cut in, sharp interjection jarring Daniel from his focus. “I don’t want to hear about you.”

“What do you mean? I’m telling you a story!”

“Tell me a different one, then,” Esmerelda snapped. “This one won’t relax me, it will make me want to  _ scream _ .”

Anyone with a healthy sense of self-preservation would avoid making Esmerelda scream at all costs. Daniel did not have this crucial trait, but took the hint anyways.

“Fine,” he huffed, flipping over in bed. With their backs facing each other — Daniel facing the window, where the glow of the moon danced through the gauzy curtains — it was easy to pretend he was in bed alone. Or, perhaps, lying next to someone he could stand… someone like Hale.

What was Hale's favorite story? No, Esmerelda would hate that one... what was Hale's  _least_ favorite?

“Once, a long, long time ago,” he said, “the land of Nephthys was a wild, untamed place, and magic pulsed like lifeblood throughout the land.

“This was before the Age of Enlightenment, in the time of our previous rulers  --- before the great Queen Cordelia eradicated chaos and calamity from our lands. In this age, Nephthys was ruled by a King and Queen. They guided the country as best they knew how: with fairness, mercy, and true judgement. However, they could not control the wild things which terrorized the streets and citizens. Sorcerers ran rampant; criminals lurked in every dark alley; and all the unspeakable, unknowable things now confined to the Dark Forests made their homes throughout Nephthys, existing wherever they pleased. Our land was a dangerous place.”

“I was alive back them, you know,” Esmerelda interjected. She no longer sounded volatile, at least; there was a note of boredom in her voice, but she appeared content with this tale. “It wasn’t nearly as bad as that. There was a lot more magic back then, but it was a very different land. The air was different.”

“Things were  _ dangerous _ . Don’t interrupt.” Daniel rolled his eyes, and easily imagined Esmerelda doing the same. “The lone place in the land where this chaos was controlled was in the capital city of Herakleopolis. Never was a city grander, or more treasured by its people. Even then, the capitol’s streets were paved with gold, the sun shone for all but a few hours of the day, and grand balls were held every night. The capitol was the home of all the grandest citizens of Nephthys. This included the King and Queen, and their daughter Cordelia — a vivacious and beautiful princess who swore to bring peace to her land. In the capitol, no magic was allowed, except from the greatest Imperial wizards. Back then, the capitol was a paradise the rest of Nephthys could only dream of becoming. Ordinary citizens looked upon it with envy.

“To such an extent that one night, a powerful wizard named Seth launched an attack on the capitol. No one had ever dared such a thing before; the capitol had defenses in place, but Seth’s army and powers were far greater. He burst through the gates, ravaged the peaceful streets of the capitol, and stormed the palace.”

“Let me guess,” Esmerelda drawled. “The King and Queen were killed.”

“Oh yes, they were!” Daniel replied cheerfully. “Horribly, too. Reports exist of Seth turning them into frogs and stepping on them. It’s all very shady, no one knows for sure. It was a long time ago.”

“I like the frog idea,” Esmerelda remarked. Daniel decided not to even  _ approach _ that comment.

“All seemed lost for our great land. As Seth lowered himself down onto the throne of Nephthys, with his vicious army cheering around him, it appeared certain that our country would fall into the hands of a wizard, and forever be ravaged by wicked magic. Just as the crowd’s cheered swelled into a roar, however, a miracle occurred. Princess Cordelia sprung out from behind the throne, sword in hand, and speared the Brutal Wizard through. 

“Seth crumbled to dust in the chair upon which he sat. Cordelia turned to his army, raising her sword high. In that moment, they all fell into loyalty to the throne, swearing their allegiance to her.

“Our Great Queen did as she always proclaimed; she brought peace to the land of Nephthys. Shortly after taking the throne herself, Queen Cordelia travelled to the highest peak in the cliffs of Nephthys during an eclipse, and sealed all the uncontrollable magic in the land away. She locked it into a precious gem, which was then thrown into the sea. 

“Ever since, our land has been at peace. Magic has not threatened Nephthys’ citizens, all the most dangerous things have been banished to the dark forest, and crime has been eradicated from our shores. The Kingdom if Nephthys has never been safer, and it is all thanks to the great Queen Cordelia.”

Esmerelda was very quiet for a very long moment. Then she made a strange choking noise in the back of her throat, gurgled, and pretended to vomit all over the pillow. Daniel surreptitiously inches further away.

“You have heard of something called  _ propaganda _ , haven’t you?” Her words were harsh, voice even less forgiving. “Let me guess — that’s the story everyone knows as true, because the Queen said so.”

“That’s the story written in history books,” Daniel retorted, immediately defensive. It was not a story of his own invention — and yes, perhaps he embellished a bit for dramatic effect, which is what storytellers do — but every word, as far as he knew, was true.

“And who are the history books written by?”

“Her Majesty's government.”

“I never could have guessed.”

“What are you saying?” demanded Daniel, at his wit’s end. Esmerelda was not a citizen of Nephthys; in fact, she was not even a member of the species she swore such hatred against. What did the origins of their world matter to her?

For another long moment, Esmerelda remained silent. It stretched between them, deafening, agonizing; Daniel’s skin itched more with every second that passed. He could not explain why Esmerelda’s skepticism bothered him as much as it did; it was as if the fabric of his world, so carefully woven and maintained, was being plucked at by a foreign hand. He writhed against it — against his very worldview being challenged.

Finally, Esmerelda sighed. The battle which had been brewing in the silence between them fizzled out and faded away. There was no point to it, when one party really didn’t want to bother fighting.

“I was around back then, remember,” is all Esmerelda said; and after another long moment, added, “You humans really  _ are _ naive.”


	9. The Cursed Cove

The picture of Esmerelda bathed in morning sunlight could not have drawn a sharper contrast. Her tangled curls were pulled into a neat bun at the top of her head; strings of beads were twined carefully around her neck and wrists, once again disguising the heavy scarring which lay there; her new dress hung loosely around her tan legs, light fabric fluttering int he breeze drifting from the open balcony doors. She looked, against all odds, like a proper Coastal lady  — one who wouldn’t be amiss strolling along the shores with her beau, or selling handmade jewelry in the marketsquare.

The illusion lasted until breakfast was delivered to their room.

As soon as Esmerelda slung herself sideways in her chair, limbs askew, and began to devour tomatoes open-mouthed, all impressions of gentility which may have taken root in Daniel’s mind shriveled away and died. Esmerelda was not a lady; she was a wild, ravenous thing, who did not care for new dresses or human modesty.

She also did not care to leave any breakfast for her companion.

“Hey! That’s mine!”

“There are two plates! What am I supposed to eat, your scraps?”

“You’ll find out if you  _ wait long enough _ — hey! Give me that back! The red berries, those are  _ my _ red berries — hey! My green stuff! Daniel!”

The voracious appetites of a sea creature and a teenage boy were on roughly even ground. In the end, the battle lasted only as long as the tomatoes. Daniel got his breakfast, and Esmerelda did not lose a finger trying to stop him — a victory for both parties.

By the time the morning sun rose high in the sky, breakfast was a hurdle overcome and forgotten in favor of the task at hand: obtaining the last two ingredients for  _ Lass Vassaie di Foní _ … or, as Daniel persisted in calling it, the Funny Potion. (Esmerelda’s annoyance died away the first time Daniel tried to pronounce words in her Mermish tongue. As soon as her ears stopped ringing, she enthusiastically encouraged him to call the potion  _ whatever _ he wanted, except for  _ that _ .)

“We need raw blue moonstones for the spell to work,” Esmerelda declared, scanning an imperious gaze over the empty breakfast place in search of a leftover morsel. “Where night we find that?”

Daniel blinked in delayed shock (why was the question left up to  _ him?) _ , and managed a helpless noise. The way Esmerelda rolled her eyes suggested she’d expected nothing less.

“Fine. If we put off the moonstones, that just leaves us to find… a kelpie. One of those water spirits, you know — shapeshifters. The  _ worst  _ kind.” Ignoring the obvious irony, Esmerelda flopped back onto the chair again, examining the pattern of her dress as if it personally reviled her. “They lure innocent victims onto their backs, and carry them into the depths to drown. Which isn’t a bad strategy, to be honest. If you’re stupid enough to get on a water spirit’s back —-“

“Didn’t I ride a hippocampus all the way here?” Daniel arched a brow.  “Besides, technically  _ you’re _ a water spirit.”

Esmerelda rolled her eyes, waving a hand so carelessly that her sharp nails nearly caught Daniel in the jaw. “Three completely different things. Don’t trust water spirits, any of us. We’re all  _ terrible _ .”

“I hadn’t noticed,” remarked Daniel.

Crossing her arms, Esmerelda turned her glower up towards the ceiling. Her jaw worked, as if she were chewing on an invisible piece of tobacco; she blew a long stream of air from perfectly-pursed lips. “Where do we find a kelpie?”

Daniel’s face twisted into a grimace. For a long moment, he didn’t say anything at all.

“What?” demanded Esmerelda, gaze turning up to him. 

Daniel shrugged. 

“What  _ is it?” _

A glint in Esmerelda’s eyes, and a blink-and-miss-it flash of razor-sharp teeth, was enough incentive to break Daniel down. “Fine! It’s — well, look, I don’t know about  _ this _ town, but where I come from, there’s a legend for everything. Anyone you ask — if it’s something that ought not to be, they know where it is.” At Esmerelda’s baffled look, he shrugged. “Coastal folk tell stories. We pass our traditions on orally — and monsters make the best yarns of all.”

To Esmerelda, a foreign visitor on Coastal soil, it must have seemed like a longshot… but discovering the whereabouts of a nearby Kelpie turned out to be as easy as asking a stranger.

Well, three strangers; the first two people they asked (the inn’s concierge and a baffled fisherman) had no clue what they were talking about. When they reached the third, however — a young woman, leading a child by the arm — her face sealed over with stone, and Daniel knew they’d found their beast.

“My gran saw one down at the cove — far into the rocks, where there ain’t water anywhere in sight, only one big pool deep enough to drown in. She said it were a nice black beast, big as a house, with teeth like knives in a block… ‘n the eyes. Said she’d never seen such eyes in her life. Glowed like two pearls from the bottom of the sea. They followed her wherever she went… t’were the grace of the gods that she walked away, t’was, otherwise that monster would’a had her soul for breakfast!” The woman shuddered, and tugged her child closer, ignoring the tot’s tiny grunt of surprise. “She used to tell me every night, ‘fore I went to sleep  —  _ stay far away from Kelpie Cove. _ ”

“Well,” remarked Esmerelda cheerfully, “with bedtime stories like that, who needs nightmares?”

The woman’s story hung in the air around them like spun gold. It was exactly what they needed. Daniel could hardly keep the grin off his face as they set off in search of the beach, and the rock areas that would inevitably contain Kelpie Cove.

The shores along Corgarra were rocky, the ground less silt than stone, digging into their bare heels as they followed the waterline. Spare seashells were strewn across the rocky sand, gone ignored by residents accustomed to more shells than they need; the caw of gulls echoed from somewhere over the water. Where Daniel’s village had a constantly-bustling wharf, the beaches always occupied by sailors and their families, Corgarra’s shores were quiet; the center of the action lay in the busy marketplace. It reminded him more of the beaches he and Hale used to explore as children, walking miles along damp sand to find some place that just might hold an adventure.

He liked the quiet beach. Not only was it far more intimate, it left him comfortable. He did not care to be watched today, smiled at by strangers ignorant to the dangers that lay just beneath the waves. Daniel felt itchy in his own skin, out of place in this strange town. He was an impostor… and the feeling would not fade until he had his best friend safe again at his side, reprieved by the knowledge that he hadn’t let Hale die.

“Isn’t it convenient,” Esmerelda remarked, after a solid twenty minutes filled with nothing but waves against the shore, “that we just happen to come ashore in a village with its own Kelpie legend?  _ Exactly _ what we’re looking for?”

“Not really,” replied Daniel, shrugging his broad shoulders. “My village has its own Kelpie, so I’ve heard. We’ve got our own pirate too, Torvald the Toothless. And our own ghost ship, the  _ Excelsior _ . There’s a sea serpent who cruises the coast, but we share him with a few towns North from us, and we’re not really sure what his name is —“

“I’m sorry I asked.”

“Don’t be,” replied Daniel, who genuinely loved talking about his home. The further away from it he was, the more he wanted to reminisce; it made him feel closer to the place he’d left behind. “You know, Hale and I used to try and find them. All the legends. All the monsters.”

“Why on earth would you do that?”

“The thrill of it. We were wild kids with too much time on our hands. All we used to do was explore. We’d follow the old stories our Granna’s told, and see how far they took us. Usually that meant to old sea caves, which really wasn’t safe… but we used to explore them all. We clambered over rocks, through them, swam out to places at sea… whenever we raced, Hale won, but I used to let him.”

“Sure you did,” Esmerelda snorted.

“It’s true! He cried back then, about a lot of stuff. He stopped crying… after his father died.” Daniel’s lips pursed into a frown; suddenly he no longer felt so talkative. Losing Garlan Marinos to the sea impacted the entire community in different ways, but none moreso than his young son. Daniel could never recall that awful day without shuddering, but the weeks that came after were worse — watching that awful solemnity settle into his friend’s eyes, and never seeing him shed a tear. No child should force themselves to feel nothing… yet that’s exactly what Hale did.

Through it all, Daniel was there for him… even when Hale would let no one in. Perhaps it bred a sort of loyalty in Daniel — the kind even ten years, a shipwreck, and sea monsters could not stamp out. He would always be devoted to Hale, always there whenever his friend needed him. Hale would do the same for him — though, by the grace of the Ancient Ones, he’d never need to.

He offered no more information after that; and Esmerelda, to her credit, didn’t ask. After a long moment of silence she sighed and stretched her arms up over her head.

“My sisters and I used to chase rainbow fish around the reefs.”

Daniel’s gaze shot to her, startled. Esmerelda didn’t glance at him. Her impassive eyes remained fixed ahead on the endless shoreline, plotting out each step. After a moment, she continued. “On warm summer days, the sun filtered through the water, and the fish would glimmer like brightly-colored pearls. I used to imagine I could catch some of them and wear them in my hair — so we’d chase them. My sisters and I, swimming through the reefs and laughing, making a game out of who could catch a fish first. We always let them go afterwards… the fun was in doing it together.”

Daniel swallowed hard, desperate not to say the wrong thing. Somehow, he had a feeling he would anyway. “You… mentioned them before. Your sisters. Did… did something happen to them?”

Esmerelda did not speak for a long moment, silence stretching between them like the length of a hangman’s noose. When she finally spoke again, her voice held the hardness of an executioner. “Not to them. To me.” Her gaze suddenly settled on Daniel, sharp as twin blades piercing his chest. “We aren’t all lucky enough to have people willing to save us.”

This time, it was Daniel’s turn not to ask questions.

Steadily, the ground beneath their feet began to harden. They no longer walked on loose sand, but damp dirt and silt. Rocks took the place of empty shore, stretching back deep into the cliffs, leaving gullies of mud between them and the ocean. Esmerelda’s bare feet sunk into the muck, staining the hem of her dress brown up to the ankles. She did not seem bothered in the least. 

When Daniel craned his head to see over the tall rocks stretching ahead of them, he could see nothing. Their non-existent path dragged on forever, carrying them further from town and the beach. Minutes stretched on like hours, filled with nothing but increasingly labored breathing, and the echo of two pounding heartbeats. Each turn around a rock brought them to yet another, until they both were panting with exertion, aching feet carrying heavy bodies along with the pace of beleaguered pack-horses.

When they reached a climbable ledge, they pulled themselves up. Exhaustion weighed their bodies down. Clambering up, high over the shore and land, was a subhuman effort. Shaking legs pulled them up; hovering in a moment of breathless hesitation, they turned their gazes down. 

At last, the promised cove stood before them… and it looked nothing like they expected.

“It’s less… wet than I thought,” Daniel said flatly.

“I did think there would be more water.”

“Maybe just a little.”

They had reached the cove, alright — and upon some long ago time, it would have been as described. A pool deep enough to drown in must have sat there, once… but now a deep gully stretched between the rocks, hollow and drained. Not a drop of ocean remained, not even the distant echo of surf. There was nowhere to swim, or even wade; not a puddle to splash in. No reefs or flora grew along the bottom of the hollow. Even the surrounding rocks were free of sea brine. Perhaps the cove had been abundant once, but now it was drained… not just of water, but  _ any  _ signs of life.

A slow sinking feeling settled into the pit of Daniel’s stomach.

“Maybe there’s another cove,” ventured Esmerelda.

“We’ve been walking for nearly an hour. There is no other cove.” He closed his eyes tight, waging war against the serpent of anxiety coiling around his chest, twining through his ribs and settling round his heart like a vice. “How can we take hair from a kelpie if there’s no kelpie around to take hair from?”

“Do you think  _ I _ know?” Esmerelda kicked furiously at the rocks with her bare, blistered heels. “This was all your idea!”

Daniel gasped at her incredulously. “My idea? You’re the one who came up with the potion!”

“Because your first plan nearly got you killed! That potion is the only way to get your friends back!”

Daniel threw out his arms, gesturing to the cove below. “And look where we are now. Great idea. Yeah, I’m sure everything will work out fine!” Tilting his head back to the sky, he found himself uncertain quite who he was yelling at; the Ancient Ones had to be having a riot. This must be a comedy festival to them — and he, somehow, ended up playing jester. “We’re just in a waterless rock cove, without a single kelpie! We spent half the day walking, climbed all the way up here… for nothing! And now — now we’re going to have to walk all the way back!”

Esmerelda had fixed upon him, green eyes sharp, devoid ofa shred of mercy. “ _ You _ can walk,” she replied. “I can swim.”

“That’s a great idea,” Daniel shot back. “Except, oh, right —  _ there’s no water! _ ”

Without another word, Esmerelda turned and leapt straight down  --- over the side of the rocks, dropping the dizzying distance to shore. 

For a moment, Daniel’s heart plummeted with her. The fall would be enough to break anyone’s legs… but mermaids were made of sterner stuff. When he scrambled to the edge, he found Esmerelda on her hands and knees, having landed in a crouch. Without another glance up at him, she scrambled across the beach, kicking up sand in her wake… towards the sea.

She was really going to walk straight into the ocean, and  _ leave him there. _

Daniel spread his arms wide. “Are you serious?” 

Esmerelda did not look back.

“Alright! Fine, I’ll just ---  just ---”

The outrage died in his throat. What was he going to do? He didn’t have the energy to manage another endless trek back to town…  and once he made it, what then? Where would they find kelpie hair --- or, for that matter, moonstones?

Surf lapping at her toes, Esmerelda lifted the hem of her dress and waded further in. Daniel gaped after her, struck dumb with exhaustion and futility. However the empty gully below had wound up drained, his hopes were going to same way. Rescuing Hale was hopeless without the potion, and finding all their ingredients now seemed unlikely…  and he still had a long walk back.

Defeat tasted bitter. Turning his back, Daniel braced himself against the sun beating down on his bare head and neck, preparing himself to climb down again. His legs were lead weights beneath him, feet brass anchors. If he could jump, he surely would break his legs; if he fell, his neck would serve a greater casualty. Still, what choice did he have?

Daniel turned, sterling himself for the drop to follow… and came face-to-face with salvation. 

Scrawny and thin-coated, the creature before him resembled a child’s worn stuffed toy more than an actual beast. It’s coat was a murky brown, worn away in patches to reveal dark skin underneath. In some places it had grown thin mats, the color of brine, unremarkable against the murky coloring. It’s eyes were wide, sharp black pupils rimmed with white; they seemed to seize hold of Daniel, taking in his every movement, his every breath.

It was a horse.

Of all the creatures to find in the middle of a deserted wasteland, a horse would have been the last on Daniel’s list. Yet there was no mistaking the creature staring back at him… even if he’d never seen an actual horse in his life. 

Horses could climb rocks, couldn’t they? He had no clue… but what goes up must have some way of getting down again. If the creature made it up there in one piece, chances are it would have a way of getting down. With the ground so far below (and neither of them possessing the impact resistance of mermaid legs) one slip of feet or hooves would be perilous… but the horse seemed so steady, not at all unnerved by the height or uneven ground beneath it. In spite of himself, Daniel drew reassurance from its confidence.

Just like being lead along in the fast pace of a hippocamus through the water, clinging to a horse’s back seemed like a far easier way to make it back to town than another long, exhausting walk. This horse wasn’t an anomaly… he had to be a miracle.

“Hi,” Daniel said, holding out a tentative hand. The creature regarded him with those wild eyes, sharp as jagged spears. “Hey there, Buddy. How’d you get up here?”

Predictably, the horse did not reply, but Daniel wouldn’t have been stunned if he had.

“Do you… think you can get me over those rocks?”

Though he had no mermaid to translate what the horse was saying, something in its demeanor, in the easy bow of it’s head and welcoming slant of its shoulders, was encouraging. Daniel took two steps closer, laying a hand on the horse’s flank. It tensed, then heaved a great breath. A smile rose to Daniel’s lips unbidden. He could not help warming to this odd, scrawny creature, who seemed as eager to help as he was to  _ be _ helped.

“Thank you,” he said softly, voice warm with gratitude.  “You don’t know what a hero you are.”

“Daniel?” Esmerelda’s voice echoed from the beach below. A bolt of surprise shot through him; she’d seemed so ready to swim off, without even looking back. Why has Esmerelda returned? Had she not had any intention of leaving at all?

If it was a prank, it was a spiteful one, and left the taste of curdled milk in Daniel’s mouth. “Go ahead,” he called, heaving himself onto his new friend’s back with surprising ease. “I’m fine! I found a horse!”

“You  _ what? _ ”

He had just enough time to register the urgent pitch to Esmerelda’s voice before the creature beneath him gave a jolt. Daniel’s instinctual relief at the horse’s sudden motion — finally,  _ off this cursed rock _ — quickly gave way to alarm. His vehicle was moving, alright, but in the wrong direction. Instead of turning towards the shore, they were headed down... into the cove.

“Hey — wait!”

A sharp jerk on the horse’s tangled mane only spurred it on faster, with a shrill whinny like steel against a chalkboard. It trotted down the rocks, then broke into a gallop. Daniel had no second to register solid ground slipping away beneath them. In a second, they were down, and the cove burst to life.

Where looking down had only revealed dry, empty silt, rich sand now kicked up a storm beneath the horse’s hooves. Bright fauna stretched up the rock walls, twining it’s way up even as Daniel gaped at it. The sky had shifted from cloudless blue to a churning, overcast yellow, as if a hurricane were brewing just in the horizon. And the water — the water. By the gods, the water.

Never was there ocean so blue, or so infinite. The water seemed to stretch on for miles in all directions, a great pool of swirling azure which filled the great cove and stretched far out to sea. Foamy tendrils lapped against the shore, drawing everything in their wake — the flora, the sand, even the horse itself. For indeed, the horse was racing straight towards the water at such a furious pace that there could be no chance of stopping, of pulling back before they were both in over their heads.

Daniel’s only options were to hold on or fall — and all of a sudden, falling didn’t seem like the worst thing in the world. He jerked back, trying to slide off of the horse’s back before they could reach the churning surf… but his hands held fast where they gripped the creature’s neck. Try as he did, he could not release himself; one palm was glued to its hide, while the other was locked around a handful of matted mane. Daniel let out a shout as his tugging met with forceful resistance. Some powerful magnetism was fusing his body to the horse, refusing to let go no matter how he tried.

“Let me go! Stop!”

The horse did not heed his cries. Surf splashed beneath its hooves; the water extended greedy teeth, snapping at Daniel’s heels, ready to swallow him. Daniel jerked up, but the horse pushed deeper on into the water. 

Panic pulsed in his ears, clogging his throat, choking him even before a drop of water had the chance to flood his lungs. The rest of the world raced by in a blind haze of chaos. He could not feel the water rising up to greet him, nor register the thought of drowning all over again. Only one thought rang through his head, swallowing every other sound in its deafening symphony:  _ You idiot. You absolute idiot. _

And then, through the blur of hazy terror, he spotted it   ---- though he _heard it_ before anything else. A world-shattering screech.

The horse let out a terrified knell, rearing up on its hind legs. Daniel’s first instinct was to grip tight, out of an utterly-irrational desperation to hold his balance; but with a great buck, he tumbled off the horse’s back, landing hard in the surf.

Salt invaded his open mouth, burning his eyes, blinding him. For one awful moment, he could hear nothing but pounding hooves, and the guttural hiss of some unseen monster echoing over them. Terror spurred him to seize hold of himself, forcing his eyes open. Just in time  --- for the figure of Esmerelda standing knee-deep in the surf, arms raised over her head, had taken on the veil of abomination for only a moment. The unnatural transformation was already fading as the horse galloped away, but vestiges remained. Rows of needle-sharp fangs were still bared in a gruesome grimace. Gills stood in sharp contrast against the tender skin of her throat. Her eyes were milky, pupils dilated into slits, but still blazed with minacious wrath.

For a moment, she truly looked like a monster.

Then, she was back  --- Esmerelda again. Green eyes wide with adrenaline, proud posture melting into a slump as she stumbled in place, a mouth free of fangs gasping for air like a fish on land. For a moment, she struggled to breath. One hand gripped her chest as if to ground her, the other clutching her temple; she swayed in place. Yet with a shudder, she recovered, and a moment later was stalking through the surf to Daniel’s side.

“You moron!” Her holler sounded nothing like the unholy screech of moments ago, but struck the same note of peril. “Do you have a brain in your head, or a bunch of empty clam shells rattling around in there? What’s the matter with you? How stupid do you have to be? Why would you get onto ---”

Even as she railed at him, Daniel was on his feet, arms in the air as he struggled to defend himself. “Me? Was that  --- I’m stupid? Was that the kelpie?”

“Yes! Yes, that was the kelpie!”

“Oh,” he exclaimed. Suddenly, the bizarre presence of a horse in the most unlikely place made a lot more sense.

Esmerelda’s rage simmered as she realized he’d genuinely been clueless. After a moment, it visibly drained out of her. She smacked a hand to her forehead, groaning. “Stupid human boy.”

Daniel sat down heavily in the surf again, adrenaline fading with the rapid pulse of his heart. “In my defense,” he said, “you never mentioned it looked like a horse.”

“I thought it was a given.” Esmerelda massaged her temples, fighting off what was clearly the migraine of the decade. After a moment, she gave a soft groan, burying her head in both hands. “That’s it. That was the kelpie, and now it’s gone, and we still don’t have what we came here for.”

Her words fell heavily around them both, like heavy stones splashing in the surf. Daniel looked up, surprised.

“Not quite.”

With the last effort of an exhausted man, he leaned towards Esmerelda and extended one of his hands — the one which had been tangled in the kelpie’s mane.

Clutched tight within his balled fist were several strands of matted, gnarling hair.


	10. The Cottage By The Sea

“Now, for the last item on our list: raw blue moonstones,” Esmerelda declared, drumming her jagged nails against the countertop. “Where do we find _blue_ moonstones?”

For a moment, Daniel could not even comprehend that she was speaking to him. When the realization hit, he greeted it with no small degree of displeasure; in fact, a sudden outbreak of cropping plague would have been welcomed with more enthusiasm. His shoulders hunched, head shaking of its own volition. As his aging body settled down in the nearest seat, he could not even manage a reply.

“Not good enough,” Esmerelda snapped. Reeling around in the middle of the inn’s foyer, she crossed the room to where Daniel was sitting and looked over his shoulder. “Come on, I thought you knew how to find _everything_ , Coastal Boy.”

On any given day — a less eventful day, perhaps, when he’d run into fewer heretofore-mythological creatures, and had fewer brushes with certain death — Daniel would have a clue. At the moment, he did not. Exhaustion weighed down his limbs. His head pounded, his muscles ached. He was crusty with seawater. Sand had found itself into places it had no right to be.

At the moment, Daniel had no desire to hunt for their last crucial ingredient. He wanted a shower and a long nap.

Of course, Esmerelda wasn’t about to settle for that.

“ _Now_.” One bony finger poked into his shoulder blade. Being stabbed would have felt more pleasant. “Where do we go?”

Daniel could offer nothing but a profound and expository grunt.

One could find a lot of things in a Coastal market, but moonstones were a commodity all their own. Coastal moonstones were revered throughout the kingdom of Nephthys. No other jewel could match their luxury, their sheen, the glimmer of a thousand rainbows confined to one tiny gem. Some villages made their entire living off of moonstone mining, and they were considered essential for any bride-to-be’s wedding ring… should the family be able to afford it.

This was the extent of Daniel’s knowledge on the stones. He’d seen them sparkling on married ladies’ fingers, and as a small child had chased the reflections of his mother’s ring across the sunlit kitchen… but to find _five_ moonstones, uncut and unpossessed? They weren’t the sort of things to just leave laying around — to afford them, they would need even more than shipwreck’s gold. What’s more, he’d never heard of _blue_ ones before.

He slumped over, more to escape Esmerelda’s prodding finger than true motivation to move. His head came to rest in his hands, fingers dragging through shaggy hair as he heaved a sigh.

“I’ve seen white. I’ve seen grey. But blue?” He ventured a wary glance up at her. “Do you mean sapphires?”

Esmerelda shot him a sharp look, clearly expressing that if she _meant_ sapphires, she would have _said_ sapphires.

“Right,” he sighed. “Well, I don’t know what to tell you. We could try the market.”

Esmerelda slammed her hand down flat on the table, sharp nails digging into wood. There was no vitriol in the scowl upon her face, only deep thought giving way to frustration. “I already looked, and there were none. They must be somewhere. Moonstones, moonstones, where can we find _moonstones?”_

It dawned on Daniel, with a sudden, unpleasant jolt, that they’d hit a dead end. They could wrack their brains for hours, shooting insults back and forth, yet never get closer to finding the stones they needed. There was nowhere to go from here… but up.

Instead of watching Esmerelda claw her hair out, Daniel chose the Coastal method of problem solving. Unfortunately, it involves moving. Ignoring his body’s impassioned protests, he pulled himself to his feet, strode over the the concierge desk, and offered the woman behind the desk a smile.

“Afternoon. Lovely day, isn’t it? Very sunny, uncomfortably hot, don’t go near the cove. I’ve got a question, and really hoped you might be able to help me…” He subtly craned his neck for a glimpse of the name embroidered on her uniform shirt.  “ _Sherra_ . Would you happen to know where we could find _raw_ _blue moonstones_ around here?”

The concierge looked surprised, but not blown off her feet. Clearly, this was by no means the strangest request she’d ever received. Her eyebrows crept up, even as she regarded Daniel with an expression of uninspired bemusement.

“Moonstones,” she echoed.

Daniel nodded.

“Raw.”

“Yuh-huh.”

“ _Blue?_ ”

By this point, Daniel wondered if the lobby had an echo. “Yep. Raw blue moonstones. I apologize if it sounds a little bizarre —“

“Oh, it does. Just not as bizarre as what I’m used to,” the concierge replied, attention swiveling to a stack of papers balancing upon the edge of the desk. It seemed to be a list, and she scanned it with the appetite of a ravenous tour guide. “You're wearing clothes, and there are no crabs clinging to places crabs should never cling.”

Daniel blinked, cleared his throat, and politely glanced away.

Perched on the edge of the concierge’s desk were a few handwritten advertisements for local businesses — a sale at  a jewelry boutique, half-priced salmon being distributed by a specific fishmonger — and, on a flyer decorated with brightly-colored shells and seaglass, an announcement of a dance at the in tonight. Involuntarily, a smile quirked at Daniel’s lips. His last Coastal dance seemed like a hazy memory, though it only took place a few months ago; the copious amounts of ginger beer he consumed may have something to do with it. Drinking or not, there was no outing more wild than a dance. He scanned the flyer with piqued interest: for all guests of the town, catering provided by the inn, dancing until dawn… and the promise of a special guest.

“Here we go,” the concierge announced, jarring Daniel’s attention back to her. Without smiling, she handed him a piece of paper bearing nothing more than a scribbled name — in such illegible script that he could barely make it out.

“Along the Cliffs of Pallas, nearly touching the sea… you won’t be able to miss it. Be polite.”

“Of course. Right. Thank you.” With a gracious bow of his head, Daniel accepted the paper and stepped away from the desk.

Esmerelda welcomed him with the most unimpressed look he’d ever seen on her usually-unimpressed face. Salmon lips jutted out in a foul-tempered pout, while arms crossed over a stubbornly-terse posture. “I could have done that.”

“True,” Daniel replied. _“But_ you didn’t!” 

Sometimes, one had to accept the small victories.

* * *

Being forced to travel out of town twice in one day seemed an inordinately unfair punishment to Daniel — especially after what an ordeal their last adventure had been. By some divine mercy, they didn’t have to go far this time. Corgarra was a prominent town, but small for its status, crowded by the ocean ahead of it and cliff-ranges at its back. The cliffs stretched high into the heavens, eventually devolving into the more rural landscape where farmers and merchants made their homes; once past the cliffaces, all the little fishing towns of the coast could be easily forgotten. Crossing these ranges could take days, even weeks. As soon as Daniel heard the word cliff from the concierge’s mouth, his heart sunk.

Thankfully, the Cliffs of Pallas proved not to be much of a climb at all. Instead, they sidled their way up a grassy slope, leading straight from the outskirts of the city — up and up, farther out towards the sea, until the ripe breeze lashed at their faces, stinging their eyes and filling each breath with salt.

The altitude was not the problem, for they were really not up that high; nor the walk, for it was not too steep, nor too far. It was immediately apparent, however, why the bustling town stopped where it did. Few people dared to venture up to the Cliffs of Pallas… because rather than stretch back, towards the heart of Nepthyhs, Pallas extended her arms forward. Towards the sea.

It was a steep overhang, stretching far past the gentle waves along the coastline. Open sea churned below, an azure canvas stretching far as the eye could sea. Waves frothed at the surface, reaching up towards the clifface. One massive swell, it seemed, could sweep up and engulf the entire overhang, taking anyone foolhardy enough to linger there with it.

A shudder wracked Daniel when he made the mistake of looking down. He gripped Esmerelda’s arm tighter.

At his side, the Mer let out a faltering breath. Her eyes were wide, awed. “It’s just like being at sea.”

 _Too alike,_ for Daniel’s comfort. He’d nearly drowned enough times in the past few days; suffering the same fate on dry land seemed a cruel trick of fate. Uneasy eyes turned ahead, up the grassy slope once more. “Who would be bold enough to live here?”

They found their answer in a ramshackle little cottage, perched directly on the cliffside.

At first glance, it seemed impossible anyone could live there at all. The house was cozy, well-put together, painted white with a friendly porch and open windows looking out onto the path up the cliff. Nonetheless, nothing could be called _welcoming_ about the place. A better word, more suited to Daniel’s racing heart and reeling head, would be _perilous_.

Rocks crumbled at the cottage’s heels, tumbling over the edge for a steep, endless drop to the ocean below. Only an arm’s length from the porch, the sea waited; anyone standing there in a storm, clinging to the railing, could stretch their arms out and touch the ocean itself. Too easily could he imagine someone built a house on the cliffside on a whim and abandoned it in their own terror…  but the well-worn rocking chair sitting on the porch disabused the notion. Hanging on either side of the door, chimes rustled in the wind. Crystals glimmered in the beaming sunlight, shells clacked together on hanging strings. An intricate engraving sat over the door, done by some patient hand; a few steps closer, and Daniel recognizes the image of a dolphin leaping through the waves.

“Someone… lives here?” said Esmerelda, in a wondering voice. “I did not think humans were so brave.”

“Most of us aren’t,” Daniel replied shortly. He couldn’t look over his shoulder at her  ---  there was a strong chance he’d throw up. Or faint. Or both, and he didn’t trust Esmerelda to help him.

“Why? Why would a human live this way?” One bony hand extended outwards, fingers training through the crystal chimes. Her lips were parted in wordless awe; her breath shuddered. Esmerelda’s wide eyes settled upon the engraving, and she could not help reaching towards it.

Before her hand could set upon the sleek wood, however, they were both jarred from their awe by a sudden voice. “Maybe a body happens not to like visitors.”

As one, the adventurers spun around. Whoever they were expecting to greet them, a middle-aged woman with a basket on one hip and a hand on the other took them aback.

The woman took a step closer, arching her eyebrow. She shifted the burden on her hip, herbs rustling within their wicker prison; her voice was sea-roughened but sharp, each syllable ringing as clear as the chimes by her guests’ ears. “Ever consider that? And perhaps  ---  perhaps  ---  that same body was not expecting to return home and find strangers at her door unannounced. About to let themselves in, seems to be.”

“No, monna  ---  no. No.” Daniel scrambled down from the porch, running a hand through his hair  ---  still scraggly and salt-heavy from his unexpected dip in the sea. Esmerelda was barefoot, scrapes lining her bare limbs; their clothes were both ragged and unwashed. What a sight they must make, like a pair of wanderers looking for somewhere to spend the night! In defense of his own dignity, Daniel immediately slipped into the manners of a well-bred Coastal boy. His head dipped in a respectful bow. He extended an arm towards her, offering her leave to speak first. His mother would be proud.

When he lifted his head, however, the woman was unimpressed.

“I see,” she drawled, though Daniel had offered no explanation. Her gaze flickered between the two, Esmerelda on the porch and Daniel almost kneeling before her. Understanding flickered in her eyes; she lifted her head higher to appraise them both.

If there was nothing frightening about her, the woman struck an arresting figure. A proud stature added to her already impressive height; she stares down her nose at the two intruders with deep brown eyes, sparking with unrestrained intelligence. Her skin was very dark, her lips a shade lighter. Her dress hung lose around a powerful body, dyed skirts of deep blue and aquamarine blending with the green of grastains at the hem. Her feet remained bare. A mass of dark hair, curls bursting out in every direction, was strung through with a cascade of colorful shells, seaglass, and tiny flowers from the cliffside. She was a canvas, illuminated with the colors of the sea. Too easily could Daniel imagine that, behind those quick, dark eyes, might dwell the spirit of the sea itself.

She was the most striking woman he’d ever seen.

“Are you Granna Céleste?” Esmerelda spoke up  ---  suddenly, boldly, unexpected enough to strike a bolt of alarm through Daniel’s chest. He reeled around on his heels to face her, but she was looking over his head, regarding the woman without an ounce of shyness. When he spun back around, their host regarded Esmerelda the same way.

“That is what they call me, child. I am. I am.” She tilted her head  ---  a movement made sharper by the utter stillness of the rest of her body. “Why have you come to find me?”

“We were directed towards you. From the town.” Esmerelda held up the concierge’s slip of paper, eyes not straying from their target. “You can help us find what we need.”

Granna Céleste’s striking mouth twitched. “And what is that?”

Lifting her chin, Esmerelda’s lips pursed a second before she replied  ---  “Pure blue moonstones.”

Uncertainty hung heavy in the air for a moment, like a curtain ready to fall on an illuminated stage… before Granna Céleste stepped forward, laying a hand on Daniel’s shoulder to steer him back to the porch. Her touch was light, but insistent; her voice was lighter as it chimed in Daniel’s ear.

“Well, come in, then. Might as well find what you’re looking for.” A silent laugh pulsed through her words. “You _have_ come to the right place.”

* * *

 

The inside of the cottage was markedly more comfortable than the outside. If the exterior appealed to one’s aesthetic senses, the interior appealed to natural survival instincts.

Here, there was no looming cliffside, no perilous drop to certain death just steps away. It was close enough, of course — the sound of the ocean still emanated from the other side of the wall, and Daniel’s back to the broad windows could not leave him ignorant to the waves churning behind him. Still, the cottage was… cozy. Made up of three rooms, the kitchen welcomed its guests immediately, sunlight enveloping a charming table, crowded with an array of herbs and crystals. Much the same hung in the windows, descending by rafters from the ceiling; the crystals caught the light, reflecting mirages of color against the plain wooden walls. Granna Céleste had a stove, a pantry, a tiny bathroom, and a bedroom door which remained securely shut. Against one wall stood a crowded bookshelf; upon a desk set a half-finished jigsaw puzzle, half-open drawers overflowing with messy sketches on loose paper, captioned in a language Daniel could not read. Only one portrait livened up the otherwise plain back wall; rather than calling to mind echoes of the sea, however, it was a verdant field blooming with flowers in shades of pink and lavender. The painting, in such a position of honor, showed every sign of being marveled at frequently.

Overall, it was very difficult to feel uneasy in the cozy little home.

Granna Céleste sat them both down in her kitchen — upon wobbly wooden chairs, at a table carved from white cedar, with flowers painted along the edges — and began fixing tea. Her every movement was quick and precise; she boiled the water with a steady hand, stirred in a cocktail of herbs, and easily poured out three cups for them all. Only when the tea was settled in front of them did she see fit to relax, hovering at the head of the table to watch her guests take their first sips.

Tentatively, Daniel raised the brew to his lips. It burned his tongue, tasting richly of lavender and yarrow. The flavor was not unpleasant, but cloying enough to force him to take a breath. When he glanced up at Esmerelda, she was eyeing her own cup with the alarmed sneer of one fully expecting to be poisoned.

By some miracle, their host did not take offense. “So,” Granna Céleste sighed, settling down in the chair across from them. “You’ve come for moonstones.”

Daniel gulped another mouthful of his tea before nodding. “Yes. We… didn’t know where else to find them, and when we asked down in town, they sent us here." 

“Of course they did.” The lady scoffed, a shake of her head sending liberated curls flying around her. In the warm cottage light, the grey at the roots of her dark hair stood out more prominently, but she did not look old. Granna Céleste pulsed with vitality. “I’m the only sea woman they know, the only one who knows the old magic, so when they have a question, they come to me. When they need a potion the doctor won’t give, and the medicine women won’t mix, they come to me. When they've got a lover or child lost at sea, they come to me to bring ‘me home. When I need help fixing my roof, _then_ — no, no one comes to me. They only come when they need something.” She rolled her eyes, fingers drumming against the table; her nails, strikingly long, glittered when they caught the light. “They need a witch? Everyone knows, _‘go to Granna Céleste.’_ They need a neighbor? They’ve got better options.”

He could not help a sudden burst of sympathy for her, this woman living in isolation on the cliffside — so far removed from town, with only the sea to keep her company. No wonder she scoffed at them so easily.

“I… I’m sorry,” he said softly. “That really isn’t fair.”

“Life isn’t fair, child.” She drummed her long fingernails against the table, a chorus of clicks-and-clacks which jarred the bitterness from her tone. “We make what we can of it, else we let it eat us up. There is no sense in that. A person can be three times the person they ever were alone and happy than surrounded by people, hating ‘em day and night. No time to regret.”

“Only to… do what we can,” Daniel said softly, winning a thin smile from the woman. He could not call it approval, not really… but it was a start.

He took another sip of his drink, surprised to find the bitter taste hadn’t faded as it cooled. After a short splutter, he couldn’t help but ask. “Sorry, what — what is this tea?”

“Primrose,” volunteered Esmerelda, though she hadn’t been addressed. It was the first word she spoke since entering the cottage. Granna Céleste let out a cackle.

“Brings out the truth, whether it scares you or not. Most people don’t bother with the truth. But everyone bothers with tea.” She held up a finger. “You see where I get them all.”

Uncertain of what else to do, Daniel swallowed another gulp of tea. He didn’t _feel_ any different, whether it was meant to be casting a spell on him or not. Should Granna Céleste ask him anything uncomfortable — the name of his first crush, for example, or the last time he wet the bed — he felt sure he could still lie convincingly.

Granna Céleste leaned in, head tipping back as she regarded him. “What are you doing here?”

Daniel blinked back at her with solemn eyes, even as Esmerelda avoided her gaze. He was not afraid of the truth. “We’re making a potion to break a siren’s curse. They took my best friend, and I have to get him back.”

“So.” Her nails drummed out a staccato rhythm against the table, judging where her words did not. “You’re gonna take the moonstones, brew the potion, walk into the siren’s cave, given them the potion, and… walk right out of there again?” Her lips pursed. Daniel flushed.

“Not quite. We’re hoping no one has to get hurt.”

“I see. You’re a fighter then, are you? A warrior?”

“No, monna.”

“You ever held a sword in your life.”

Daniel bit the inside of his cheek. “No, monna. I haven’t.”

“Then how do you —“ She jabbed one very slender, very sharp finger at him, “expect to make this plan work?”

Daniel had nothing else to say. In truth, there was nothing to say; he knew what a long shot it was, but sometimes desperate measures were the only measures that could be taken.

“Because,” Esmerelda spoke up suddenly. “He has me.”

No one asked her to speak, but all at once Daniel found himself intensely grateful for his companion. Leave it to Esmerelda not to be daunted by anything, even the looming uncertainty of failure. Indeed, she met Granna Céleste’s eyes now with the same unwavering stare she wore outside of the cottage. As the woman’s dark gaze turned on her, she stared back, clearly unimpressed.

“ _You_. I see, then.” She spoke the words as if reading a sentence of condemnation. “I see very clearly. This is all your idea, hmm?”

“It is,” Esmerelda replied bluntly.

Granna Céleste turned back to Daniel. “You know the spell needs your blood? You’re willing to give that up?”

“Of course,” Daniel replied, at once defensive — if not on Esmerelda’s behalf, then at least on his own. “I understand the consequences, but I’ll do it. For Hale, and our friends. It’s… not even a question.”

The woman stared at him for a long time, appraising him like a freshly caught salmon. Her lips slowly curled up. “I see. You’re noble…” Her head swiveled to Esmerelda. “And you know just what you’re doing.”

She moved quick enough that it was nearly a blur; Daniel could not ever register what she was doing until her dark hand seized Esmerelda’s wrist, lifting it high into the air. The strings of beads lining her arms fell back, to reveal flashes of the mottled, ugly scarring underneath. With a brisk sigh, Granna Céleste pushed the beads aside entirely, laying Esmerelda’s arm bare.

For the first time, Esmerelda looked startled. Her head instinctively ducked into the crook of her neck; she gazed up at the woman with a heavy, resentful gaze. If Granna Céleste cared — or even noticed — she didn’t let on. One finger smoothly traced the scarring, and she let out a thoughtful hum.

“I see,” she said again… though what exactly she was seeing, past the ruined canvas of Esmerelda’s skin, Daniel couldn’t say. “I see it all, now. Clever girl.”

“Thank you,” Esmerelda replied through gritted teeth. “May I please have my arm back now?”

Obligingly — as if a gentleman, handing over his dance partner to her next beau — Granna Céleste returned Esmerelda’s arm to her. When she turned back to Daniel, her gaze was inscrutable; she looked upon him, however, as if she understood everything at once, and pitied then both immensely.

She extended one hand, placing it over Daniel’s own. Her voice was very soft, as if just for his ears. “You know what happens, little boy, when humans get mixed up in magic they don’t understand?”

Daniel could not help the shudder that ran through him at her words, heavy as they were with the weight of legend. Of course he knew; he was raised on the old stories. Still, that was exactly what happened to Hale. He didn’t realize what fatal trap he’d fallen into, until already caught in a web of magic. If Daniel couldn’t save him, no one would.

“How can I know,” he replied evenly, “if I don’t understand? We humans learn from experience.”

His words clearly took the woman aback. She startled; then her head fell back, and she laughed, a jarring, cackling sound. It echoes through the tiny house, rattling Daniel’s bones.

“Fair enough, fair enough,” she replied once she was done. Shaking her head, Granna Céleste rose from the table. Still muttering to herself, half in a language Daniel could not discern, she shuffled across the room without another word to them.

In her absence, Daniel was left alone with Esmerelda — and he did not need to study her to realize something was amiss. Her ruddy face had gone ashen, eyes wide and face tense. Her jaw was locked tight as a seal trap, and she still hunched into herself as if expecting the old woman to snatch up her arm again at any moment.

“Are you okay?” Daniel asked in a hushed voice. “I’m sorry she did that to you.”

Her sharp gaze turned on him, hunted and defensive. Her lips parted, as if to reply in a fervent negative; then, she reconsidered, and faltered. “It’s nothing,” Esmerelda finally replied, in a subdued murmur. “I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?” Daniel pressed, laying a steady hand over her own. “We’re up high. Maybe the altitude is getting to you.”

Esmerelda did not answer for a moment, regarding him with unfathomable, solemn eyes… before nodding. “Yes,” she replied quietly. “Must be the altitude.”

Granna Céleste returned, in a cloud of flowing skirts and wild hair. In one swift movement, she swept the teacups away, ushering them into the sink. Before her guests could even register their loss, she’d returned to the table with a strange, close-lipped smile, and dropped something in their place.

“These ---” Daniel blinked down at the round stones in front of him, glimmering a rich azure in the sunlight. He could see his reflection in the smooth surfaces, like tiny droplets of water dancing upon the tabletop. There were five exactly  ---  five moonstones, scattered between he and Esmerelda, a precious fortune set so carefully abreast.

He looked up at Granna Céleste slowly, disbelief plain in his wide eyes. Across the table, he heard Esmerelda heave a shuddering breath.

“They’re meant to be raw  ---”

“Raw does not always mean _uncut_ , child. Sometimes, it means _untouched_  ---  by any hand, human or magical.”

“You touched them,” Esmerelda pointed out, and had Daniel not been so taken aback he would have scolded her for her rudeness.

Granna Céleste did not seem to mind. A sparkle shone in her eyes as she looked between her two guests. “True enough. But I’m not one or the other.”

At last, Daniel found his voice, intent as it seemed upon strangling itself in his throat. This was not the greatest fortune he’d ever seen, but seemed eminently more precious than Esmerelda’s shipwreck gold. It was their chance — without the stones, they could not make the potion, and could not save his crew mates. With the last piece of the puzzle in front of them…

“We can pay you for this,” he said in an urgent hush. “We have a — a bit of gold. Shipwreck’s gold. It will make it up to you —“

One venerable hand smacked down on the tabletop in front of him, causing the stones to tremble. “Did I ask you for any payment?” Granna Céleste demanded matter-of-factly.

Again, Daniel found himself at a loss for words. His gaze flickered between the woman and Esmerelda uncertainty. Esmerelda’s hand hovered over her neck, where a final string of gold resided amidst the shield of beads and pearls. After regarding Granna Céleste’s face for a long moment, her hand lowered.

“The world has spoiled you, little boy. Everything has to cost something. There are no favors anymore, nothing to do with kindness. It’s all something-for-this, something-for-that. How d’you put up with it all?”

Daniel shook his head, dazed. Was she giving them away for free? “I’m just… used to it, I guess. How do you —“

“If you needed a favor, you could pay me. This isn’t a favor.” Granna Céleste pushed the stones across the table, into Daniel’s waiting hands. “It’s _magic_ , and that goes beyond money. Magic has its own price, but you can’t find it in gold or jewels.”

His better instincts urged him to ask exactly what that price was; but, deep down, Daniel was sure he didn’t want to know. Only a moment could be spared to revere the glittering stones before he tucked them away in his pocket, safe and out of sight. Their weight was a steady comfort against his thigh.

“What do you get, helping us for free?”

Esmerelda’s voice jarred him back to the present. There was a blunt edge to it, like the impact of a rock. Her eyes, narrowed, scrutinized the older woman. Unfazed, Granna Céleste blinked back in return.

“Same thing you do, helping him.” She let the words hover in the air for a moment. “The _satisfaction_ of helping someone else make a big mistake. And maybe I’ve got my own motives, but no one needs to know that but me.”

Esmerelda’s fingers tensed around the edge of the table. Her jaw hardened.

“You understand, then,” she said, hard voice unable to disguise an underlying tremor. “Sometimes there’s no other way.”

Granna Céleste laughed again, brittle leaves crumbling under the weight of bare feet. “Oh,” she replied. “There’s always another way, _mémé sheesha_.”

Had a speck of dust fallen from the ceiling and hit the floor, it would have echoed in the silence which stretched between them. Esmerelda’s face has gone very white; her jaw screwed shut, as it a bolt cutter would be needed to loosen it again, but a small shudder coursed through her body. As ever, Granna Céleste was inscrutable, but something superior underscored her proud posture. Something victorious, as if to say: _I see right through you. You’re only getting your way because I allow you to. I won._

All at once, Daniel was intensely uncomfortable. Clearing his throat loudly, he rose from the table, chair scraping beneath him.

“This is — thank you. I can’t thank you enough — we can’t — thank you, monna, thank you so much. Granna — is that alright, can I call you Granna — if there’s ever anything we can do for you —“

Granna Céleste cupped his chin in one hand, caress gentle. What shone in her eyes may have been approval, or simply amusement. It was hard to say… but the district shadow of regret was unmistakeable.

“Be careful, now,” she said in a hush. “Don’t do anything you regret.”

“I already know I’ll regret this,” Daniel replied softly — even the thought of returning to the sirens’ cave filled his stomach with ice water, and stretched his nerves to breaking point. “But I can save the regret for after my friends are safe, and I’ve done all I can. If I don’t, I’ll regret it for the rest of my life.”

“Brave boy,” she tutted, and let him go.

Between the woman and Esmerelda, not a single word was exchanged… but Esmerelda slid past her, shoulders slumped, head bowed. Her eyes met Granna Céleste‘s once, then looked away, as if she could not sustain the contact.

Granna Céleste said nothing in return — simply showed her guests to the door, and waved them off as they stepped off her porch, and started down the winding path back to town.

Daniel cast a glance at the venerable figure of the lady, standing with the open sea at her back. When he turned to Esmerelda, he found her eyes trained down, tension lining the set of her shoulders. She was still very pale; even when he nudged her with his shoulder, she is not look at him.

“Esme,” he asked softly, again. “Are you alright?”

“Of course,” replied Esmerelda — though the curious lack of inflection in her voice suggested she was anything but. “I told you. Everything’s just fine.”


	11. Distractions

The trek back to town could not have been more uncomfortable if Esmerelda had a knife to his back.

Her silence itself was a bladed thing, jabbing him with sharp edges the second he believed himself safe. Esmerelda did not say a word on the long walk down the mountain; but once they reached town, with the safety of cobblestones beneath their feet once more, Daniel made an overture.

“Would you like to hold onto them?” he asked, one hand hovering over his burdened pocket. “It’s better to keep all our ingredients together, and ---”

“No,” Esmerelda interjected. “I’d rather not.”

The dismissal could not have been more succinct, or colder  --  yet Daniel was left stinging, as if she slapped his face and shoved him away. As Esmerelda strode on ahead, leaving him behind, he could not ignore the change which had come over her. Blonde tangles hung in her face, her head bowed; her proud shoulders hunched in on themselves, forming a wall between Esmerelda and the rest of the world. She stalked through the busy streets like a wild beast, and people gave her an accordingly wide berth.

He could not comprehend what happened, but something about the visit to Granna Céleste rattled Esmerelda. Her confidence was shaken; she was knocked off-kilter. Past natural worry for his ally, Daniel could not help wondering if this altered mood might affect them come morning, when they would rely on Esmerelda’s magic to brew the potion.

This would not do. Something had to be done.

* * *

 

By the time Esmerelda stepped out of the shower later that night — a shower sternly enforced on her by Daniel, too aware of what a full day of walking under hot sun and wrestling in the waves left them smelling like — his plan was set into action.

 

She paused in the center of the room, eyes widening and narrowing in the space of a second. Suspicion clouded her face like a storm sweeping along the horizon; her lips curled, shoulders tensing. An animal seconds from sprinting into a trap could not have looked more hunted.

 

“What are you doing,” she said  ---  and then, as if the realization dawned over her slowly, with an even greater serving of wariness, “with my dress?”

 

The dress in question was not Esmerelda’s casual gown, all but ruined from the day’s exertions (at least, Daniel doubted the considerable extent of his sewing talent could save the tattered hem, or salvage it from mud and sandstains). Instead, he’d taken her second dress  ---  the gown of cream-colored silk, ornamented with coral blossoms dyed into the fabric  ---  and laid it out across the bed.  They had no shoes for her to wear, but a plain pair of sandals at the back of the closet, left there for guests’ leisure should they need an extra pair, could match with the colors easily. These he set together, occupying himself in the meantime with smartening his appearance, in slacks and a crisp button-down shirt.

 

Now, Daniel turned to Esmerelda with a broad grin. “We,” he declared, “are going to a dance.”

 

It was the perfect opportunity. They’d be able to hear the revelry of the inn-hosted fete from their rooms until well into the night... so why shouldn’t they join in? Esmerelda had never been to a Coastal dance before, and Daniel missed them as much as everything else about home. What better way could there be to distract Esmerelda from whatever clouded her mind?

 

Surprise betrayed itself across her face, along with the inevitable flash of alarm. “I’ve never been to a dance before. I don’t know how ---”

 

“I’ll teach you. It’s easy.” Daniel grinned, gesturing to the dress, and the window outside, where the sun already sank low over the horizon.  “It’ll be fun!”

 

One more flash of uncertainty, before her face hardened — but Esmerelda, with all her rough edges, could no longer strike him as cruel. “And why should I go anywhere with you, human?”

 

Daniel considered for a moment, before his smile widened.

 

“Because,” he replied, “why should you not?”

  
  


There was no party on land or sea quite like Coastal party.

 

Over the raging storm of the party around him, it was all too easy for Daniel to lose himself. The floor rattled with the force of dancers’ stomping feet; couples leapt into the air and landed as one; beer sloshed over the edges of glasses as their owners spun and twirled to the band’s rollicking symphony. The drummer hammered his instrument, and any available flat surfaces nearby; the horn and flute players competed with each other for the loudest crawl; and below it all the beat, inextricable from the pulse of the party itself, thrummed through the crowd. There was no escaping it. Every one of the people crowded into the inn’s open ballroom was infected by the exuberant current of life, and swept away.

 

Little surprise that, even in the midst of all this chaos, Esmerelda still wasn’t wearing shoes.

 

“You’re going to be stepped on!” Daniel warned her, raising his voice to be heard over the party’s roar. Esmerelda lifted her proud chin and scoffed in his face.

 

“Let them, then! I’m not the only one here shoeless!”

 

She was right. Some of the dancing girls had discarded their elaborate heels already. The wiser ones wore sandals, which ended at their ankles or laced all the way up their calves, allowing ease of movement — and making it all the harder to lose track of their shoes in the fray. Amidst a crowd like this, Esmerelda did not stand out at all.

 

Perhaps not to a hundred strangers… but she stood out to Daniel.

 

The revelation of his companion, groomed and shining, was like dawn rising in a pitch black sky. He could never have believed it of Esmerelda — having seen her in her element and out of it, nothing about her invited the praise of a remarkable beauty. Even with a tail, she commanded attention with her presence, rather than good looks. Taken on human form, the most attention-grabbing thing about her was her feral dishevelment. She was striking, but Daniel would never have called her beautiful… until Esmerelda donned her dress, pinned her mass of golden curls up, and strung her ever-present beads over herself — over her arms, over her neck, over her hair like a glittering crown.

 

She still had an element of danger to her, a wild thing that could never be tamed; her bare feet spoke to that. But, washed and groomed — perhaps feeling, for the first time, comfortable in her human skin — Esmerelda was a beauty.

 

“You look amazing,” he’d exclaimed when she stepped out, a mixture of awe and confusion in his voice. Esmerelda tilted her head before grinning, a humorless bare of teeth like a wild animal, which could not disguise her pleasure.

 

“You don’t have to act like a gentleman. I’ve saved your life too many times now.”

 

“Soon we’ll be even,” he replied, offering her his arm. They strolled down to the dance together… and all too quickly, were caught up in it.

 

Now, with the chaos raging around her, it was clear Esmerelda was a bit overwhelmed. Still, she was thriving. The ballroom’s warm light glimmered in her wide eyes, accentuating the flush in her cheeks. Every individual pearl strung through her hair danced like stars when she moved; her slender body woven through the crowd with natural grace that promised dancing would come easy to her. Even if she was not used to it — even if this was her first time at a Coastal dance, or any dance at all.

 

He kept a close grip on Esmerelda’s arm, just in case she should wander off; in this crowd, Daniel doubted they’d find each other again. Leading her through the sea of people, he strained to pick out any threads of conversation over the pulse of music, but it was impossible.

 

Only once they found themselves near a window, having made it through the worst of the crowd, could he hear himself think again. At once, Daniel turned to Esmerelda. Her eyes were fixed on the dance floor, upon the sea of twirling, leaping, howling people. Her face did not twitch, her chest did not heave; if there was any breath left in her lungs, she gave no indication.

 

Daniel set a hand on her shoulder, jarring her from her trance. His hand found hers, lacing their fingers together and tugging her forward. In the face of Esmerelda’s confusion, he just grinned.

 

“And now,” he declared, “we dance.”

 

Esmerelda balked like a wild horse straining at unfamiliar reins. She nearly tumbled into the windowpane. An incredulous noise, a cross between a laugh and a howl, broke from her throat as she tried to resist Daniel’s unyielding grip.

 

“What? No, I can’t  ---” Her voice pitched, over the thunder of the dance and roar of the dancers. “I don’t know what I’m doing!”   
  
“You don’t have to!” Daniel cried back. His hand tightened in her own; he caught her eyes and held them, like another lifeline, a tenuous grasp to conscientiousness which remained. “It’s like swimming. Just dive in!”   
  
Esmerelda’s hand tightened in his, hesitant for a split second  ---  before she squeezed back. As one, they leapt into the melee.   
  
The rolling tide of music swelled over them, crested, and swept them away. There was no opportunity for self-consciousness. Daniel’s feet stomped as if from natural instinct, and all Esmerelda knew was to go along with it. Unyielding feet stumbled along, forced into rhythm by the motion of the crowd. She could lose her balance, because there was no chance to find it. In a heartbeat, she was dancing, and it was as if she’d always known how.

 

Daniel jumped, coming down hard against the wooden floor alongside a dozen other men. Esmerelda was swept in a mass of twirling women, arms raising over their heads as decorated hair flared around them and dresses swirled into a kaleidoscope of color.

 

There were no partners in the dance. Every person became one cog in a furiously working machine, each as essential as the last; stomping, spinning, lifting each other and twirling, the dancers spun into the night. Daniel quickly lost his bearings, aware only of the bodies he passed. One lithe girl spun into his arms, and was quickly tossed into the air; when he caught her, she tossed her head back with laughter, spinning away with a kiss on his cheek. The next second, a man in a pair of hard clogs nearly flattened his toes; seconds later, the transgression was forgotten. In the midst of the fray, he could barely make out Esmerelda, twirling at the other end of the floor. Only her masses of beads made her distinguishable; they flared around her as she moved.

 

Subconsciously, Daniel made his way towards her, swimming through the sea of people to reach her side. It was easier to be close to someone he was familiar with; and if she got overwhelmed, she would be able to turn to him. 

 

Esmerelda showed no signs, however, of her high spirits faltering. She barely noticed once he reached her side; only when he caught her in his arms and spun her did she shriek, eyes opening wide to greet him.

 

“Esme,” he exclaimed, raising his voice over the music, “you’re having fun!”

 

“Is that what this is called?” Esmerelda shouted back, breathless. “I didn’t realize!”

 

It was practically a surreal experience, witnessing Esmerelda happy — for the first time in Daniel’s memory, possibly the  _ only time _ . She’d certainly never been carefree around him. She never allowed herself to grin with all her teeth, nor enabled her emerald eyes to shine like gems. This was a new face of Esmerelda’s, one he never expected… but greeted with open arms all the same. When she was happy, she practically seemed like a different person. Gone were the abrasive words and harsh tones; her teeth bared in a smile rather than a snarl. When she caught Daniel’s gaze again, utterly jubilant, a sense of pride overwhelmed him — accompanied, in no small part, by relief. 

 

The dance changed; the pace slowed. Daniel extended a hand to Esmerelda, and she did not pause to question before accepting. Only when he pulled her closer, hand coming to rest just above her waist, did her eyes widen in confusion, mouth parting in silent question.

 

“It’s a partner dance,” he answered with a shrug. “We don’t have to, if you’d prefer it.”

 

Esmerelda did not protest or pull away, as he’d honestly expected her to. However, a new awkwardness settled over her, filling the void confidence left behind. Her steps grew heavy, body swaying clumsily to the music. She frowned at other couples, studying their movements with rapt attention — but any effort to imitate them failed. As the distraction faded, Esmerelda found herself too caught up in her own body again.

 

“Don’t think too much,” Daniel chided gently — more to distract her than anything else. “It doesn’t have to be perfect. No one is looking at us, I promise.”

 

“No. They’re all looking at each other.” Indeed, Esmerelda was the only one who seemed half-interested in the other pairs of reeling dancers, save the cursory assurance that the couples did not crash into each other. The song was slower than before, but allowed for light, easy movement; Daniel was able to guide her along with little resistance. Esmerelda, fascinated by the melody and and dancing, did not bother to fight.

 

This was not the closest he’d ever been to Esmerelda, in all their life-saving misadventures…  but it somehow felt far more intimate. Her arms twined with his own; rough, mottled scarring brushed his bare skin, a foreign caress. She was intensely private about her scars — but again, Esmerelda did not try to push away. She allowed him to remain, to touch her…  building their own personal bridge of trust.

 

They had crossed a boundary, he realized. From reluctant allies to  _ friends…  _ and there was no going back now. After what they’d been through, they were condemned to friendship forever. It did not sound like the worst idea in the world.

 

“You’re doing great,” he muttered, as Esmerelda’s bare feet stumbled across the floor.

 

She blinked up at him, mouth pursed, eyes solemn. If she did not believe the praise, she also didn’t bother to argue. “Thank you.”  

 

When she exhaled, her entire body seemed to shudder. A hot gust of breath brushed Daniel’s collarbone.

 

He spun her, catching her back in his arms again, and they reeled together in easy sync. His heels glanced across the floor, a quick, tapping melody; hers made no sound at all.

 

The band’s lone string player descended into a solo, and Daniel jerked Esmerelda close with the music’s command. She let out a hushed gasp, arm lacing round his shoulders. Light on her feet, one pivot sent her off the ground, into the security of Daniel’s arms — lifted high into the air as they both spun around. She settled back on solid ground once more with the grace of a butterfly. Rogue strands of golden hair flew about her face; the beads around her neck rustled. Her eyes, dark and intent, dared not tear away from his.

 

In that moment, the could say anything to each other, and not be judged at all. Esmerelda opened her mouth, closed it again, before managing to seize upon the right words.

 

Or perhaps they were not the right words at all, not what she really wanted to say. Either way, she said them, in a voice so low that Daniel could barely hear it.

 

“What are you most afraid of?”

 

He blinked at her, disarmed but not surprised. There was no need for shields here, no sense in protecting himself. He was honest. “That I’ll be left alone.”

 

Her eyes flickered down for just a moment, grip tightening around his shoulders. The dance swooped, and she went with it. 

 

“Being alone,” Daniel added, once Esmerelda rose up out of a low dip, “and not being able to do anything about it… because it is my fault.”

 

For a moment, he was almost able to forget the tougher edges of Esmerelda— but then she snorted, and they were cast back into sharp proportion. “Please,” she shot back, though there was no true venom in her voice. “You’re about to risk your life, to go up against —  _ monsters _ , just to save your friends’ lives. If that doesn’t guarantee you a lifetime of good karma from the gods —“

 

“You believe in karma now?” he asked, with a surprised chuckle.

 

Instead of finding humor in it, however, Esmerelda looked frustrated. Her mouth screwed up, eyes flickering down in uneasy consideration. “I don’t… I don’t know,” she replied, tightening her grip on him again. “I don’t know what I believe.”

 

“That good people have good things happen to them, and bad —“

 

“That’s  _ shah _ . False.” On the flip of a coin, her voice was harsh, like coarse sand scraping over sunburned skin. When she raised her eyes back up to Daniel again, they burned with something incomprehensible.  _ Rage _ — not at him, not at herself, but at some unspeakable  _ other _ , a destiny far beyond both of their controls. Daniel did not know what kindled this spark in her, and didn’t dare ask. 

 

“Things are never that simple… and good people suffer all the time. For no reason.” Her brows furrowed. The music swelled, nearly reaching a crescendo, then pitched mellow again.

 

“Maybe  _ there’s _ what you believe,” Daniel ventured cautiously.

 

Esmerelda turned her head away, casting her face into sharp profile against the candlelight. As the melody swelled, the dancers reeled faster and faster; suddenly steady on her feet, she had no problem keeping up. Their arms stretched out, hands intertwined, to raise above their heads. They sliced through the crowd like the prow of some great ship, charging ahead, breathless.

 

A reel, a twist, the final dying gasp of the string-flute ensemble… and the dance came to an end.

 

Finally, Esmerelda met his eyes again— only for a second before she lowered them, gaze dropping to stare blankly at the floor. “I can’t believe that bad people never get to be happy… because I’m not ready to give up on myself.”

 

Daniel could not think of a reply, so he didn’t bother. Instead, his hand tightened around Esmerelda’s own, and she squeezed back… a wordless expression of something far deeper. Reassurance settled in his chest, spreading out like a blanket to envelop him totally. Yes, he was right — there was no going back now.

 

It could not escape his notice that Esmerelda never shared her own fear, while she had no problem pressing him for his. Studying her shadowed face in the candlelight, however, Daniel realized he did not have to wonder.

 

There was comfort in the knowledge that they were not so different after all.

  
  


When the dance ended  ---  for them, at least, in heaving breaths, aching feet, and limbs which refuse to obey them any longer  ---  they found themselves near the edge of the room once more. In the quieter corners, where people prefered to mill about chatting instead of tossing themselves headfirst into chaos, it was easier to hear themselves think.

 

Daniel settled against the wall with a drink in hand, sipind idle mouthfuls of ginger beer. Esmerelda was far more intrigued by the dance. More than once, she leapt back into the fray, only to return moments later flushed and exhilarated. Daniel did not begrudge her the fun. It was her first — hopefully not last — dance on solid land, after all.

 

“What sort of parties do Mer have?” 

 

“Nothing like this,” she replied, voice light, as she stole his drink straight from his hand for an unabashed gulp. “Not at all. We’re  _ boring _ compared to this.”

 

Nothing about the sea struck Daniel as boring, but he was willing to take her at her word. Perhaps one day, once this was all over, Esmerelda could take him to a Mer party —

 

His eyes, straying across the room, caught on one cluster of people and stopped. His heart plunged. His stomach surged to his throat, held back only by the tight clench of suddenly-clammy palms.

 

“Esme — that man over there,” he said in a soft voice. “Does he look familiar to you?”

 

Esmerelda paused, peering over the rim of her glass. “He looks like a sea captain.”

 

There could not be a more valid assessment. Standing tall at the heart of a small crowd, the man held himself like a commander of the seas; unfaltering posture complemented a booming voice and animated face, which flickered through a handful of emotions at once as he recounted some tale. Wild, dark hair grew around his head, set off by the cap upon his head. Long sideburns crept down his cheeks, and a distinctive scar stretched across his jaw like the cut of a butterfly reef.

 

Daniel knew that scar. He knew this man.

 

“He  _ is _ .” A small shudder wracked his words, tamed only with effort. Daniel’s next words came out in a rush, breathless: “That’s Captain Xephias — the most famous commander in Nephthys! He’s a celebrity, he’s survived storms and serpent attacks, and he — he commanded  _ my ship! _ He was supposed to have died…”

 

As his words trailed off, a shadow settled upon his face. The last anyone onboard the Queen Helena saw of her senior crew, they were being ordered belowdecks… and when the ship floundered, it seemed a given that she’d taken her captain to the bottom of the Caladian.

 

But Daniel had not seen Captain Xephias in the siren’s cave, had he? He didn’t see any of the senior crew.

 

“Everyone else should have died…” His voice was strained, choked with the effort of holding himself back. “So why is the captain here?”

 

It was pure impulse, nothing more — the same wild instinct which drove him over the rail of the ship after Hale. Before Esmerelda could stop him, Daniel was striding across the room, fists balled at his sides to manage barely-concealed tension. He sliced through the crowded room as neatly as an arrow, firing straight for his target. Xephias did not notice, even as Daniel interrupted the crowd surrounding him.

 

The captain was in the middle of a rousing monologue — how he survived an attack upon his ship by the flesh-eating Scylla. It was a familiar tale; he narrated it to the Queen Helena’s crew just days before she foundered, amongst his many other colorful tales. As Xephias thrust his arm forward, echoing the moment he stabbed the great beast in the throat, Daniel raised his voice.

 

_ “Captain!” _

 

At once, the tale cut off. The crowd around Xephias, buzzing with admiration just seconds ago, fell into a deathly stillness. All eyes turned upon Daniel as he stepped forward, gaze narrowed upon his former commander.

 

“Why don’t you tell them the story of the Queen Helena, sir? I’m sure you haven’t had the chance to tell that one yet.”

 

She sunk three days ago. Just three days, taking over a dozen men to their apparent doom… and somehow, here her heroic captain was, regaling partygoers in a far-off town.  _ However _ Xephias survived, his rightful place was in Daniel’s village, soothing the families now grieving the loss of their sons. Any captain with honor would be there…

 

Not Xephias.

 

Xephias, who did not go down with the ship. Xephias, who should be at the bottom of the ocean, or holed up in a siren’s cave… instead, enjoying an illustrious inland party, amidst a crowd of admirers.

 

Xephias, whose lips curled back as he smiled at Daniel with pearly white teeth, chuckled, and replied, “Don’t know that one, boy. Can’t be much of a tale.”

 

Daniel’s blood boiled. Rage surged to the forefront of his mind, past the shock and disbelief, clouding his thoughts until he could see nothing else. He stepped forward — his fists clenched — his arm raised —

 

And suddenly he was being towed back across the room, an iron grip on his arm smothering any struggle before it even had the chance to spark.

 

Esmerelda held him fast, not letting go until they were safely across the room, separated from Xephias by a crowd of oblivious revelers. When she rounded on him, it demanded all his self-control not to leap back. Her eyes blazed with raw fury, pupils narrowed to serpentine slits. Her lips, curled back, now revealed row upon row of needle-sharp teeth, gnashing for something vulnerable to sink into.

 

“What,” she hissed, “do you think you’re doing?”

 

After a beat, the monstrousness faded, giving way to human eyes and a human grimace. A bit of Daniel’s nerve returned to him; it kindled anew the flame of anger which was so effectively shocked into shouldering. His blood no longer boiled, but a tremor coursed through his broad frame. He met Esmerelda’s gaze without flinching, returning an equally harsh scowl of his own.

 

“He recognized me. I saw it in his eyes.”

 

“So, what's your plan? Punch the man in the middle of a crowd of admirers? Get yourself beaten to a pulp, thrown out of this party, probably accosted by whatever passes for law enforcement in this town —“ Esmerelda clucked her tongue in blatant disgust. “If you know how to do nothing but be reckless, at least save that nerve for tomorrow, when you’ll actually need it.”

 

Tomorrow. Of course. The pride slowly drained from his stiff posture as he saw the truth behind her words. If he intended to save Hale tomorrow, he could not afford to assault anyone tonight.  

 

A murmured apology seemed to placate Esmerelda, but it was not enough for Daniel. Acid still writhed through his veins in place of blood; a bitter taste lingered in his mouth, growing sourer as he observed the still-jubilant dancers. The party had lost all its appeal. Suddenly, he wanted nothing more than to go — to leave this superficial carelessness behind, and focus on the real work to be done.

 

If he did that, however, he’d never have answers.

 

“I need to talk to him,” he said in a low voice, still eyeing Xephias from across the room. “I have to, Esme.”

 

Esmerelda studied him for a long moment, face impassive. Then, with a tap to his shoulder, she gestured past him — out of the dance hall, down the long corridor to an open balcony at the end of the hall. It seemed to have escaped the partygoers’ notice, a more secluded feature of the inn. There, they would not be noticed, nor overheard.

 

Daniel did not get the chance to question her before Esmerelda took off, weaving her way through the crowd. His lips pressed in a thin line, jaw tightening, but there was nothing to do but oblige.

 

At least the night was quiet. Away from the bustle of chaos, with the wild party now no more than a far-off din, he could draw into himself once more — to pick up all the shards of him left scattered throughout the night, and piece himself back together again. Daniel took a crucial moment to ground himself. Perhaps he could not settle his pulse, nor calm the storm raging inside his head, but he could breathe, and he could think. As long as he remained in control of himself, there could be no excuse for losing his temper.

 

“Don’t fuss, aye? Wipe that blush from your cheeks. I’m always pleased to meet a fan, you know, especially one so lovely as y—“

 

Daniel spun around at the same moment the captain’s booming voice cut off. For a moment, they simply stared at each other. Xephias’s face shifted from pleasure to petulance — but the flash of unease which flickered across his face, if only for a split second, gave Daniel all the courage he needed.

 

“Tell me what happened to the Queen Helena, Captain.”

 

“You.” Xephias spun on his heel, turning towards Esmerelda in bewilderment. Whatever facade she used to coax him out here was completely abandoned; she now looked at his back, jaw set, a dangerous gleam in her eye. Captain Xephias was easily twice her size, but he took a step away nonetheless. Out to the balcony — towards Daniel.

 

“This is a trick,” he declared.

 

Esmerelda’s gaze flickered towards Daniel. “Oh, he’s  _ sharp _ .”

 

“You know why you’re here,” Daniel cut in, forcing the Captain’s attention back on him. As he stepped forward, Xephias found himself cornered — a knife at his back, and stone bearing down upon him. There was no easy way to escape. By the Gods’ mercy, he did not try.

 

He drew himself up, posture straightening, hesitation fading from his face. It was all too easy for an experienced sea captain to adopt a mask of bravado. “Sure, Mr. Redihess. I know why I’m here.” He tilted his head, small smile playing on his lips. “What I don’t understand is… how are you?”

 

“I was lucky.” Daniel’s jaw tightened. “I thought I was the only one. Clearly, that’s not so. Now, Captain… am I going to have to ask you again, or will you tell me what I want to know?”

 

Tension stretched between them for an agonizing moment, thick enough to cut with a knife. Then, Xephias tilted his head back into the moonlight and laughed.

 

He laughed, and laughed, until a chill settled into Daniel’s bones; until even Esmerelda was left looking more baffled than stonefaced; until Xephias had reached into his pocket, drawn out a smooth black stone, and displayed it in his palm.

 

“This, Mr. Redihess,” he declared, his laughter slowly dying away to nothing. “This is what you call luck.”

 

Daniel did not flinch. Xephias — a natural-born storyteller — revelled in having the floor to himself.

 

“See, we all have to start somewhere. Me, I started life in a nowhere-village, working aboard cargo ships… as a galley boy. A hard life, sure, but not the one I wished to live. See, I wanted to be a captain — I wanted to be the best.” 

 

Still smiling that wry, cruel smile, Xephias raised the stone in his hand. It caught the light strangely, as if coated in a sheet of oil. For a moment, Daniel could not look away. It drew him in, like moonlight dancing off ocean waves, nearly stealing his breath away. It would have, had Xephias not carried on with his tale.

 

“You don’t become the best by waiting for incredible things to happen to you. You have to  _ make them _ happen… or, find someone who can. And a good captain knows when to make a good deal.

 

Daniel turned his gaze back on him, blinking incredulously. It felt a bit like waking up from a dream… but as his mind cleared, the words cleared with them, crystallizing into something tangible. Something terrible. A cold realization was settling over Daniel’s shoulders like a cloak, driving the stones strange allure out of his head, and it left him chilled to the bone.

 

“You have a deal,” he said slowly, “with the sirens. They gave you that stone.” He pauses for a moment, swallowing past a lump of dread. “They gave you their magic.”

 

“A small piece of it. Siren magic is very particular — they’re very good at just one thing.” Esmerelda made a strange noise from behind them both; Xephias ignored her, tucking the stone back into his pocket once more. “We could guarantee each other what we both wanted. It was an easy deal.”

 

Indeed, it would be all too easy for a captain to sacrifice a ship every once and a while — to give away his crew, while h towed back to safety, perhaps guided by the attentive hand of a native sea-dweller. When he landed upon the nearest shore, he would not have to dwell upon the loss at al… because it would not affect his reputation. A flash of siren magic ensured his cult of personality, built upon so many years of magnificent voyages and forgotten shipwrecks — would remain strong as ever. Xephias’s treachery would be known to no one, cared about only by the families his doomed crews left behind.

 

“You traitor,” Daniel snarled, lashing out with a quick, powerful hand. He did not bother to aim a fist for Xephias’s smirk. This time, he went straight for the throat.

 

The captain, nerves armored by so many years at sea, did not even look fazed. “Perhaps,” he admitted. “But do you really think I’m the only one?”

 

Slow-dawning horror illuminated Daniel’s face, dispelling every shadow. He released the captain, stepping back with a trembling hand.

 

Xephias cleared his throat, and shook the moment of unwanted contact off. He took one step backwards, away from the balcony, then another. Esmerelda did not stop him, even as he shouldered by her to get past. Once he had slipped out of their reach, he tipped his head, dropping into a gentlemanly, mocking bow. That smirk— the everpresent, remorseless smirk— remained on his lips.

 

“As I said, Mr. Redihess… a good captain knows how to make a deal.”


	12. Moonglow

“Daniel.”   
  
Esmerelda’s voice was honestly the last he wanted to hear at that moment.   
  
Well... okay, that wasn’t true.  _ Xephias’s  _ voice was the last — and if the man himself still stood in front of him, Daniel would certainly not be able to restrain himself. Xephias was still back at the party, however, no doubt dancing and being fawned over... by people who did not know, could not understand, could never even  _ imagine _ the blood on his hands. All those boys he gave up to the deep... all those lives, resigned to fish food, just so Xephias could enjoy his own fame and fortune. How many ships had he capsized for his own gain? How many crews did he give up to the siren’s? He made a pact, traded over his own soul, but how many others paid the price?

  
Daniel would have paid the price. And Hale...    
  
Quick as a flash, Daniel’s hand lashed out, striking one of the panes on the balcony door with a closed fist. It shattered, a hail of glass raining around him; the pad of his fist burst, leaving the glass stained with blood. He could not feel the injury until he saw it; then he gasped through his teeth, cringing in on himself as he pulled his bleeding fist to his chest.   
  
Esmerelda hissed something in a language he could not understand, and started forward. He tried to move away, but she was quicker, with the added advantage of not losing blood. Her sharp nails dug into his wrist as she snatched it, pulling his hand towards her. She examined the injury with rapt, wide eyes.   
  
“You’re stupid,” she said after a long moment. “Why would you do that?”   
  
“I don’t know,” he replied honestly, all the bitter anger having blown out of him in that one moment of recklessness. He tried to pull his hand away. Esmerelda’s iron grip held fast, but she curled her lips back at him.   
  
“Stop it. What are you trying to dot?”   
  
No anger tainted her voice; the words fell like a blanket over him, unexpectedly numbing his raw nerves. Daniel’s first thought was it had to be some kind of Mer magic; then he noticed the chill in Esmerelda’s eyes, locked on him, and realized she was putting her own foot forward to steady him.    
  
Hale sometimes did the same thing — acted as a bastion of stone-cold reason whenever Daniel’s emotions got the better of him. The tactic, it seemed, worked well.   
  
“I’m sorry,” he finally sighed, relaxing his arm in its confinement. Esmerelda’s lips pressed in approval.   
  


They made their way back to their room in silence, Daniel keeping pressure on his wounded hand. Once the door shut behind them, he honestly did not expect help — but Esmerelda surprised him again.

  
She worked carefully and deftly, taking extra care to avoid the blood dripping from between his fingers. One of Daniel’s new shirts was sacrificed to the cause; soon enough, his fist was wrapped and tied with an intricate sailor’s knot. Esmerelda stepped back, appraising her work.   
  
“It’s something, isn’t it?” she  said, allowing no satisfaction to bleed through her words. Daniel didn’t need to hear it; he felt every gratitude she would not invite upon herself.   
  
“It’s everything,” he said, stepping towards the room’s balcony and forcing the doors open. The fresh sea air, the moonlight dancing off intact glass panes… it did wonders to numb the already ebbing fury bubbling within him. One deep breath, then another, pulled into his lungs… and all was left to the night. The balcony doors closed behind him with a click, and he sighed.   
  
How could a small act of kindness mean everything and nothing at the same time?   
  
What did little things matter when people like Xephias — cruel people, selfish people — saw fit to make deals for their own gain? When some people existed in the world only to care for no one but themselves?   
  
Even when peering into the shadows of the sirens’ cave,  Daniel never believed in monsters. He never imagined what a true monster would look like, because never before had he come face-to-face with one.

 

Not before tonight.

 

“Sit down,” Esmerelda said, a note of authority in her voice — or maybe it was just exhaustion. Either way, Daniel did not have it in him to argue. He sunk down on the bed, still nursing his bandaged hand. Now that he was no longer angry, he was slowly going numb… and that was far worse. At least the rage boiling within him gave him something to fight for. The numbness just left him sick and exhausted, too drained to even collapse back onto the pillows. All he could do was sit — sit and stare blankly at the wall, watching mirages of Xephias’s awful smile dance across the plaster.

 

“You haven’t met a cruel person before, so it surprises you,” Esmerelda said quietly. “You haven’t had to learn that people, in general, are cruel.”

 

“But they’re not,” Daniel retorted, voice  devoid of passion. “Not in my world. At least… they never have been.”

 

“And now they are. And your world has shifted, just that little bit, but it means everything. You’ll never be the same again.”

 

Slowly, Daniel turned to look at her.

 

In the moonlight, Esmerelda took on an ethereal translucence. Her skin became a glowing shade of white; her eyes shone, pools of eerie calm. She raised one arm — free of any beads or bindings, so that the mottled burns across her skin were cast into sharp definition.

 

“Would you like to know how I got these scars?”

  
  


Esmerelda spun her history out of starlight, conjuring images in the night air like a fickle mirage. Her words could not have been plainer, but they wove something vivid — a history of shattered glass, worn down by the buffering of waves and tide, the relentless cruelty of the surf. It was a broken, fragmented thing which nonetheless glimmered under the moonlight in a caricature of beauty.

 

It began with a mermaid who never knew what it was to be alone.

 

Her pod — for she belonged to a pod, as all Mer did — was led by one of the wisest sorceresses on land or sea, a Mer who knew more about magic than could be compiled in any spellbook or anthology. She was wise, and led her pod in the same way: on the virtues of unity, magic, and survival.

 

The young mermaid never understood the meaning of loss until the day her pod leader was stolen from them — ripped away by a great ship slicing through the waves, nets and spears overwhelming her before her great magic could come to their aid. The pod, taken by surprise, could do nothing to save her; and this tragedy was the initial loss, the greatest, the first shadow to fall over her sunny shores.

 

The loss of one leader preceded the ascension of another, and she witnessed her sister — bound by name if not blood, raised together in the heart of the pod — ascend to fill the empty space. Without ambition, the mermaid saw no reason to envy her, for she did not imagine for a second this change in her friend’s power could lead to great change in her world. All would go on as it ever had. Her sisters would swim, and they would survive, and they would continue — free as gulls gliding over the surface, and fish swimming below.

 

So she believed, until the shadows fell again, cast by the prow of a looming vessel against setting dusk… and this time, they would be all-consuming.

 

Perhaps it was the same ship which stole their wise leader; perhaps it was different. All the same, it did not matter, for they were taken by surprise all the same. Rather than gaining the upper hand, the pod was sent scattering, terror in the air, as prow sliced through the waves, and heavy nets dragged in its wake.

 

The rush of alarm, the dreadful sprint away, away, panic seizing her like an icy hand… then the net catching her up, hauling her back, into the air and above the waves. The terror, the terror… like none she’d ever known before, none she ever imagined could exist. There was no equivalent to this fear.

 

She fought, of course, that ill-after young mermaid. She thrashed against the heavy ropes binding her — and as soon as she landed on the deck, sprawled, elbows bearing the burn of impact with hard wood, she opened her mouth to scream.

 

It took just one quick slice — as effective as a fishmonger’s cut — to sever her vocal chords, rendering her mute, and bearing fruit to a scar which would remain long after a hoarse voice regained something of its former strength. 

 

One slice across the throat, not enough to kill, only to spill blood… and it was over.

 

Deprived of her only defense, the mermaid was left with nothing but fear, blind fear… and the overwhelming realization, for the first time in her life, that she was utterly alone.

 

It was this realization, perhaps, that drove her to the point of desperation.

 

Even wounded and bleeding, she was not dead. She had enough strength to kick out at the men who pinned her to the deck, enough wits to strain against the ropes even as they bound her… and enough nerve, once they had all lost interest in their neutralized captive, to slip from her bindings. Attention trained on the lone sailor left to guard her, wringing his pocketknife in two nervous hands. A gurgling noise, then another… a scrabbling of jagged nails across the deck… and her guard walked right into the trap.

 

She was on him before he realized what was happening, the second he was close enough to seize. Another knife tore into another throat, though this time the cut was far deeper — a blade driving into the sailor’s jugular, sending an arc of blood across the deck, drenching the offending hands to her elbows.

 

It burned… oh, gods, it burned. But the pain was nothing compared to the panic, which drove her forward and away, over the side of the ship… to freedom.

 

Back into the waves she fell, injured and grieving. Her arms blistered from the touch of something impure; the blood of a human, never meant to spill upon an ocean spirit, left deep scarring across her skin. She bore the tangible reminders of her ordeal, at her throat and arms. Wounded, devastated, the mermaid sought her way back home, to the pod which had always sheltered her.

 

One look, however, at her brutalized body, and they turned her away. A damaged sister could not hold her own, could not survive for herself… so she could not stay, could no longer swim with the pod. She was cast out. Her sisters — the only people she ever loved — turned their backs on her.

 

And again, the young mermaid was left alone. Only this time, it was for good.

  
  


“There are some things you don’t recover from,” Esmerelda said softly, once the last echoes of her tale dissipated into the night air. “Scars heal. Voices come back. But nothing can ever be as it was, and nothing is the way it should be. The worst part is knowing… knowing things can never be the same. The world hasn’t changed for anyone else, only for you, and… you can never go back to the way it was. It eats you alive.”

 

“It doesn’t have to,” Daniel replied. When he sat up, the mattress creaked beneath his weight. Turning to Esmerelda, he laid a hand over her own folded ones, gaze boring into her. “Esme… I’m so sorry.”

 

“What do I want your apo—“

 

“I’m sorry, but that doesn’t have to be the end of your story.”

 

The end of Esmerelda’s sentence died on the severe purse of her lips. She stared at him, wide-eyed and cautious, as though he were speaking a foreign language, one she struggled to comprehend.

 

“You and I… together. Tomorrow. Whatever happens, we’re writing the next chapter to our own stories. And if we’re heroes, or even if we’re not… at least we tried. That makes it worthwhile.” He squeezed her hand, just lightly enough for her to feel it. “It makes you surviving worthwhile. Otherwise, you could never have saved me, and we’d never save the crew. If you hadn’t survived… my story would be very different.”

 

The faintest ghost of a smile passed over Esmerelda’s face — only for a second. “I won’t say I’m happy I survived,” she replied. “But I am happy for you.”

 

The moon’s glow did little to illuminate Daniel’s face, but when he smiled it felt as though dawn was breaking on the horizon. His insides were slowly thawing from the evening’s deep chill which had consumed them. He felt sick to his stomach, but warm as well… relieved, in some inscrutable way, to have survived the unsurvivable. They could not be here otherwise, either of them. 

 

Survival was a very powerful thing.

 

“You deserve good things, Esmerelda,” he told her softly.

 

Pushing herself up in bed, Esmerelda returned his smile with a faint one of her own. “So do you,” she answered, holding her clasped hands in her lap and slowly unfurling them. “You deserve to believe in karma… if you can’t believe that everyone deserves good anymore.”

 

Daniel blinked in numb disbelief at the shimmering some resting in her palms.

 

When Xephias brushed against her, Esmerelda had flinched strangely, as if she wasn’t expecting the contact… but she had been, he realized, expecting it all along.

 

Esmerelda offered the stone to him; he took it carefully in hand. It felt lighter than it should have, thrumming with a breathless pulse against his skin, like the charge in the air just before a lightning storm. Holding it left him deeply uncomfortable, as if he was trespassing in something neither he — nor any other human — had a right to.

 

Esmerelda pushes the balcony doors open, and Daniel stepped outside in her wake. Together, the stood at the rail and stared out at the town stretching below them, and the ocean far beyond that.

 

“Don’t suppose we can just throw it back where it came from?”

 

“No,” Esmerelda said thoughtfully. “Don’t suppose we could.”

 

After a second of weighted hesitation, she held out her hand for the stone once again. Daniel passed it over — and in one swift movement, she crushed it to dust in her palm.

 

“Oh gods,” he said, horrified.

 

“ My kind created it,” she replied simply. “We can also destroy it.”

 

She held out her hand, and Daniel stood up straighter. When her palms unfurled, the dust glimmered in the moonlight like shards of crushed moonstone, as fine as individual grains of sand.

 

Daniel took a deep breath, and blew.

 

The magic lifted into the air, catching a current of wind as it went… and so the magic was carried back whence it was born.


End file.
